


butterflies in september

by averyseptember



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Kimi no Na wa. | Your Name. Fusion, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catching Clouds for Namjoon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Kimi no Na wa. | Your Name., Internalized Homophobia, Jeon Jungkook is Trying His Best, Kim Namjoon | RM is Trying His Best, Kimi no Na wa AU, Kimi no Na wa. | Your Name. References, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Minor Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Min Yoongi | Suga, Minor Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin, Namjoon is sexually attracted to rain, Obligatory "wow thighs", Original Character(s), Past Kim Seokjin | Jin/Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Spotify Playlist and Moodboards Included (wow), Supernatural Elements, Underage Drinking, Wow thighs, Your Name AU, body switching, kinda not really the story is different but its similar to your name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 52,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25821910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averyseptember/pseuds/averyseptember
Summary: Most sunny-dispositioned people like Hobi complain about the rain and its way of ruining plans and wetting his knit cardigans until they’remuchtoo heavy, but when Namjoon sees the rain… he feels as if that space in his stomach could be filled, even if just a little. Like a dip in the sidewalk, filled with a puddle he can smile into and see the fallen rain reflect it back to him.The rain seems to check on him, like a friend.Thinking back, he feels it's been like this ever since that day....that day.The rain had kept him safe. Pushed back against the flames like a knight and her vast shield until they were no more. Seeped into his sweater and hair until he laughed and smiled up at the sky, letting a drop bounce against his teeth and tickle his gums. He’d looked up into the clouds and the rain had told him,you’re okay.You lost something, but I’ll be here to make sure you get it back.-Around the time of their 18th Birthdays, Jungkook and Namjoon begin to switch bodies. After getting a glimpse into the lives of each other, their own are never the same.
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Kim Namjoon | RM
Comments: 150
Kudos: 254





	1. seoul

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to "butterflies in september," my Kimi no Na wa AU !! I say it's an "AU" but **you actually don't need any prior knowledge of Kimi no Na wa in order to fully understand the story** , it just happens to parallel that of the movie. This is my first fic, but I've been a reader for so long and I'm so so so excited to share my own with you guys!!
> 
> Here's a [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3l2dgQ7b2Ycj9AWfuMgWw0?si=bBaU__iiScKMHckpN_ky-Q) I made especially for this.

_If love and hate are the same words I love you Seoul_

_If love and hate are the same words, I hate you Seoul_

_\- “seoul” by RM -_

  
  
  


If it were possible to have a love-hate relationship with a city, Namjoon would love-hate the _shit_ out of Seoul.

  
  


The lingering smell of urban industry constantly leaves the taste of ash in his mouth. The rows and rows of identical buildings with the same four square corners over and over _and over_ again poke and jeer at his sides. The metal cityscape always looks the same yet is somehow ever-changing, the buses and cars and trucks etched into the moving landscape as if they were the Earth’s plates themselves, shifting and overlapping, causing the ground to shake. 

It makes him dizzy. Namjoon hates it.

Or... does he hate it?

The city skyline is all hard lines against the muddled clouds. Jagged edges of the buildings, rigid postures of pedestrians, and the smooth, smooth glide of glass windows stretching up with each skyscraper, projecting the clouds back against the sky as if they were attempting to become one. Though they try, the windows fail to meet the sky, as when the sun sets and they reflect back the harsh neon lights of the nightlife districts, they drown out the light of the very stars they wish to join.

There’s beauty in it sometimes, he thinks. Something there filled with love and home, somewhere in between the smell of the fish markets in Cheonggyecheon and the bungeoppang stands along the Han river.

Today the sounds of traffic are muddled by the sound of the very thing that plagues Seoul often in recent times (although Namjoon would argue that “plagues” is a subjective term). The Seoul rain, whether it be drizzle or downpour, seem to make time move slower, either by making pedestrians watch their step a little more as they shuffle along or making inexperienced drivers tense their leg over the brake pedal slightly more than usual.

“Namjoon-ah, are you feeling okay?”

Yoongi’s voice is surprisingly soft through the harsh static of his phone speaker.

“Yes hyung, I—”

“You’re not overworking yourself today right?” his tone turns firm, but not angry.

Namjoon rolls his eyes at the sudden interruption. “You’re one to talk, hyung.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to check up on you.”

“You saw me yesterday.”

“—And I’m saying your behavior yesterday worried not just me, but Jin-hyung too. Do you know why?”

Namjoon pauses his task. Sighs. “Yes hyung. I’m sorry.” He crinkles his forehead and scrunches his nose as if to handlessly itch the guilt off his forehead.

The day before, his hyungs had found him in the studio on a 27-hour work binge, his eye bags so remarkably resembling bruises that Yoongi reconsidered punching him in the face for being stupid and disregarding his own health.

_“The money-bags can wait Joonie, but these,” Jin had cupped his cheek with his palm and brushed a finger under his eye, “cannot. Go home and sleep, please.”_

“Don’t apologize, Joon-ah," the softness returns, "Did you at least get some rest?”

“Yes, I was in bed for most of today and am just tidying up the dorm right now.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” Yoongi seems to be getting distracted by something else at this point, probably engrossed in the track he was monitoring in the studio, “You’re coming to the meeting, yes?”

“Yea, once I’m done here I’ll be getting on the train.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

“See you.”

Namjoon lets the soft phone static linger for a moment in case Yoongi has any last-minute doting interjections (which he’s come to anticipate), but when they don’t come, he ends the call with a click of his lock button.

Several dusty cardboard boxes later, Namjoon climbs into his thick coat and with a quick adjustment of his cap in the mirror, walks out of the apartment and locks the door behind him.

-

**behind the scenes (4 users active)**

**Hobi-hyungie  
**UGH I HATE THE RAIN  
we r gonna be late to the meeting

 **August-Dee  
**when he says he hates the rain and its making us late he really means he got so caught up attaching himself to me that he forgot we had to leave

 **Hobi-hyungie  
**hey it takes TWO to get lost in cuddling

 **Worldwide Ugly  
**can you guys stop fucking on the train and hurry please   
if this meeting lasts more than an hour cause you guys are late I’m gonna stress eat tteokbokki

 **Hobi-hyungie  
**don’t use as us scapegoats for your “cheek fat” you claim to gain  
also how DARE you we would choose much sexier public places than the train

**August-Dee has left the chat**

**Joonbug added August-Dee back to the chat**

**Joonbug  
**I think they’re only a train behind me. We’ll be on time.

-

Namjoon pockets his phone and looks out the window. Or tries to, at least. Rain pelting the window makes the evening cityscape shift into drooping greys and blues, mixing and melding together like the blurred water lillies of a Monet painting. He puts his hand up against the glass and feels the coolness of the rain seep through and into his fingers, combatting the humid heat radiating off the crowd of people stuffed into the carriage.

It grounds him. Feels familiar.

He knows it sounds dramatic (and has taken advantage of this in the form of multiple song lyric credits), but Namjoon seems to always wake up with an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. Sometimes it feels bigger, sometimes it's barely there at all, but regardless it just feels like something is off. Waiting to be filled. By work, by food, who knows. 

Most sunny-dispositioned people like Hobi complain about the rain and its way of ruining plans and wetting his knit cardigans until they’re _much_ too heavy, but when Namjoon sees the rain… he feels as if that space in his stomach could be filled, even if just a little. Like a dip in the sidewalk, filled with a puddle he can smile into and see the fallen rain reflect it back to him.

The rain seems to check on him, like a friend.

Thinking back, he feels it's been like this ever since that day.

_...that day._

The rain had kept him safe. Pushed back against the flames like a knight and her vast shield until they were no more. Seeped into his sweater and hair until he laughed and smiled up at the sky, letting a drop bounce against his teeth and tickle his gums. He’d looked up into the clouds and the rain had told him, _you’re okay._

_You lost something, but I’ll be here to make sure you get it back._

* * *

**September 1st, 2015. Midnight.**

Jungkook has never had much self-restraint.

On his four-hour-seven-game-League-of-Legends-game-win streak, Jungkook had littered his desk with Pepero boxes and empty cartons of banana milk, the only part of his desk visible at this point being the space his arm occupied as it reached over to his mouse. His headphones dug red marks into his ears, the call of the Summoner’s Rift much more important than keeping track of his surroundings, making it so that he didn’t hear the knocks on his dormitory door.

Or the rustling of keys as the door unlocked. Or the exasperated sigh Jimin let out as he took in the scene of the possessed kid in front of him.

Jungkook felt a hand on his shoulder and almost startled, but instead closed his League client and calmly slid his headphones down to his neck. He turned around, his eyes meeting…

...a happily green bottle of grapefruit soju.

“Happy birthday, Kookie.”

His two hyungs now stand above him, grinning devilishly. Jungkook rolls his eyes and snatches the bottle out of Jimin’s hand, frowning at it. “I’m not allowed to drink yet.”

Taehyung reaches out a hand and ruffles his hair, “Never miss a chance to be a brat, hm?” Jungkook blushes, “you’re not old enough to _buy_ alcohol, but Jimin _is._ ” 

Jimin sits down on Jungkook’s bed, crossing his legs as he places a plastic bag gently on the floor. “And since it’s your birthday, you are socially obligated to drink whatever we present to you.”

“That sounds like blackmail rather than a gift.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue, reaching into a paper bag he has in his other hand. “I guess these steaming hot hotteok are just for Jiminie and I.”

“Wait I—”

“No hotteok until we see the bottom of that bottle, Kookie.” Jimin winks.

For a moment Jungkook's mouth hangs open mid-protest, and then he shuts it. He huffs (this is _definitely_ blackmail), then eyes the bottle warily. The clear liquid swirls around the bottle, promising things he's not sure he wants. Jungkook didn’t picture himself as a lightweight, but only trial and error would tell.

“We even got you the sweet flavor, I swear it tastes a drip of alcohol away from Yakult.”

Jungkook sighs and starts to twist the cap open. “Thank you guys. I didn’t think it was worth doing anything today.”

Two hands reach out to ruffle his hair, but Jimin’s gets there first this time.

“You think we’d skip past our maknae’s eighteenth?”

Though he pretends to hate it, Jungkook feels his spine relax at the scratch of Jimin’s hand against his scalp. He takes a moment to feel the warmth of his two best friends.

_Jimin and Taehyung had been in the music practice room Jungkook happened to walk into that day at lunch. He had thought it was empty since there was no music coming from inside, but the reality was that the duo used the room and guise of practicing their respective instruments as a way of securing a spot for them to eat lunch and play Pokemon in peace. When none of the other rooms were available, Jungkook found himself back in the room timidly asking if he could practice guitar while they ate and gamed._

_Jimin had looked him up and down, his squishy and round face somehow making his eyes and gaze seem even sharper in comparison. He smirked._

_“Only if you trade me a Piplup for a Chimchar.”_

_To Jimin’s surprise, the nervous demeanor of the freshman melted away and he scoffed._

_“Pssh, I would never. Piplup is by far the superior starter.”_

_Several Pokemon debates and school lunches later, Jungkook found himself asking his two upperclassmen friends to play some songs with him. He figured in order to have a keyboard and a drumset as an excuse to reserve a room, they had to at least know how to use them. What he didn’t expect was Taehyung practically vibrating in his seat after saying they could start calling themselves a band._

Several more Pokemon debates and band practices later, the indetachable trio now go to university in Busan together, making it a point to busk at the nearby mall at least once a week.

Jungkook looks at his hyungs with stars in his eyes as he plucks at his strings and sings the melody of whatever song they had decided on that week. Taehyung sets the beat on his drums and Jimin fills the spaces as his hands dance across the keyboard. Jungkook believed that they could be something bigger than a busking group, posting their videos online and waiting for one to blow up, almost like he was sure it was going to happen.

Whether it did or not, Jungkook could always count on being able to revel in the moments of warmth with his hyungs.

“God, when we rub your head you keel over like you're a dog, it’s gross.”

...and Taehyung has ended this particular moment.

Jungkook scowls at him and then spitefully tips the soju bottle up until both his chin and the bottle point at the ceiling.

“Whoa whoa whoa, slow down, slow down!!”

“...Kook?”

“I..I love you guys.”

“Ah so you’re _that_ kinda drunk.”

“Don’t tease him right now, Jiminie, he’ll cry.”

“Uh, I think it’s a bit late for that.”

“—What?”

Jungkook feels nothing but the warm hands on his cheeks. Massaging them like he’s a big ball of mochi dough. _Warm. Nice. Good._ He relaxes his jaw and closes his eyes.

Slowly opening his eyes again, his blurred vision focuses until all he sees is Taehyung. The older boy hovers above him, and Jungkook sees his hair form dark curls around his eyes, deep brown and filled with wonder. He takes in his _boopable_ nose and sharp jaw, clenched in concern over Jungkook. _Cares so much about me,_ he thinks.

“Kookie, what’s wrong?”

Jungkook decides that some opportunities are _not_ to be wasted and reaches up to _boop_ Taehyung on the nose with his pointer finger. Taehyung’s eyes widen, but the edges of his lips curl upwards. Jungkook thinks really, _really_ hard about what could be wrong. Happily, at this moment, nothing comes to mind.

Well, maybe one thing.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Despite his whiny protests, the hands on his cheeks are suddenly gone and replaced by a plastic bag, crinkling loudly in his ears.

“I think it’s time for bed,” he hears Jimin say… or was that Taehyung?

“Happy 18th, Kookie.”

A couple moments pass and Jungkook hears the door close and the lights flicker off. The usual yellow fluorescent lamp light of the room is replaced by the cool white of Busan’s moonlight seeping in through the window. Jungkook thinks about the moon, staring over the ocean and watching over the sea. Holding up the night sky and the stars all by herself.

Must be a lonely job, he thinks.

While his alcohol induced mind entertains the idea of being the moon and controlling the ocean and an army of dolphins, he barely notices something land on his windowsill, shining in the moonlight. When he comes to and focuses in on it, he tilts his head.

A strikingly blue butterfly sits on his windowsill shining in the moonlight, unbothered by the cold breeze that came along with it through the window.

Before he can process that he’s witnessing some kind of superstitious jackpot of good luck (his grandma would squeal if she saw this), Jungkook’s eyes start to feel heavy. Before he knows it, he’s lulled to sleep by the sound of Jimin starting the shower.

* * *

_“...kook-ah…”_

It’s quiet all around him, except there seems to be a ringing somewhere far in the distance. The more he focuses on it the more he realizes… it isn’t actually quiet at all. There’s an AC unit sputtering somewhere near him, and what sounds like multiple cars in a very _heated_ argument bouncing through the window and into his ears.

That’s not the ringing he was trying to focus on, though. Jungkook groans and rolls over in bed pressing one ear into the pillow, trying to single out the noise.

It sounds clearer now… like a voice.

It’s quiet. Deep and smooth, but soft.

_“Jungkook-ah... Jungkook-ah… don’t you... remember me?”_

Jungkook startles and sits up in his bed faster than he thinks he’s ever woken up before.

So fast, in fact, that since he had already rolled part-way off the mattress, the momentum of his sudden movement causes his butt to slip off the edge of the bed, his entire body toppling to the floor.

Ever so gracefully, Jungkook tries to spin and catch himself, but his arms can only do so much and he headbutts the carpet, yelping in pain.

_...the carpet._

Jungkook doesn’t have carpet in his room. He has wood floors… right?

Still in a blurry haze and slightly off-put by the comfort of his newly-fluffy floor, Jungkook gets up and walks over to a mirror he sees on the other side of the room to inspect the damage the floor dealt to his forehead. 

In a spout of confusion, he waits and blinks but his vision doesn’t clear. And as he gets closer to the mirror squinting… he starts to realize why.

His hand comes up to his cheek. Or… _not_ his cheek. Then to cup his, no, _not_ his jaw. It’s sharper than his, as are the eyes that are again, _not_ his.

In shock, he brings both his hands up to grip at the _platinum blonde hair_ sprouting from his head as his eyes trail slowly down his body. They scan down his chest and his arms and his big, oversized shirt, until he reaches his—

… 

…

… 

“When the _fuck_ did my thighs get so big!??”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/averyseptember)  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/averyseptember)  
> [fic thread (pls like/rt/share if you enjoyed)](https://twitter.com/averyseptember/status/1339267264688754689?s=20)  
>   
> This chapter is very short in comparison to the others, but as an intro, I really hope you enjoyed it. I will update tags as needed, but I'm kind of unsure on what exactly I should put, so if I'm missing anything important that I should tag, please let me know! Also, Kudos and Comments are very appreciated !! I love reading them and they make me so happy ^^
> 
> my dumb author notes:  
> \- this was mostly written between the hours of 1AM-5AM  
> \- also just in case, for the GC nicknames: August-Dee = Yoongi and Worldwide Ugly = Jin  
> \- piplup is the best sinnoh starter i will go to war over this  
> 


	2. Lost Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3l2dgQ7b2Ycj9AWfuMgWw0?si=bBaU__iiScKMHckpN_ky-Q) I made especially for this fic.

_Please don't see just a boy caught up in dreams and fantasies_

_Please see me reaching out for someone I can't see_

_Take my hand let's see where we wake up tomorrow_

_\- “Lost Stars” by Adam Levine -_

“Namjoon-ah”

“Yes, hyung?”

Namjoon looks up from his doenjang-jjigae and finds three pairs of eyes boring into him.

He blanches. “...what?”

All three of his members eye him with various levels of surprise, but Hobi’s face is the first to break into a smirk.

“Ah, so you remember _your name_ today,” he chuckles.

Namjoon doesn’t get the joke.

“Are you feeling okay?” Yoongi’s brow is furrowed. 

“I’m fine, what are you guys talking about?”

“After yesterday?” Jin adds with a bite of his fish and a wave of his chopsticks.

“What about yesterday? I just had a normal Wednesday.”

There’s a beat of silence after he says this. Jin swallows his bite.

“Joonie, yesterday was Thursday.”

Jin holds up his phone and it clearly reads, “September 2nd, Friday.” Namjoon’s mind short circuits. That can’t be right. He put on his favorite Thursday socks today.

“You guys are messing with me.”

He expects them to scoff and shove him for falling for it and being gullible, but is instead met with Jin’s concerned pout somehow puffing out even more than usual. _God,_ _anything but the pouty cheeks. It’s barely 8AM._

Hobi isn’t laughing anymore. “You really don’t remember yesterday at all? You barely turn 18 in two weeks, you can’t be senile already.”

“Yoongichiiii,” Jin drawls, “I _told_ you we should’ve had him exorcised.”

“The only evidence you cited for that came from dramas.”

“Dramas that were _based on a true story._ ”

Namjoon swallowed back his growing discomfort. “Guys, I’m still here. In the room. Listening and _not_ possessed.”

Jin reaches over and cups his cheek. A habit of his that Namjoon usually welcomes, but under all the pity in Jin’s eyes it made his jaw twitch.

He still doesn't pull away, though.

“Sorry Jooniper, but if you saw yourself yesterday you wouldn’t say that with much confidence. If… if you really don’t remember we can tell you?”

Namjoon felt stupid, but could see the genuine concern in Jin’s eyes, signaling this wasn’t just a prank going to well.

“...so today is Friday?”

Jin nods and pulls his hand away, wearing a frown Namjoon was starting to reflect.

Yoongi clears his throat, establishing direct eye contact, clearly trying to read his face for any sign of recognition as he spoke.

“Well, yesterday you were just... a bit off… more than a bit really, you were almost like a completely different person. It was like...”

Yoongi hesitated and Hobi continued. “We all left together for practice yesterday, but you weren’t really talking at all. Then we got to practice and you didn’t know any of the dance drills.”

“What?”

“We thought you were just feeling dizzy or something so I convinced Trainer Choi to let you just take it easy and work in your studio,” Jin bit his cheek, “but then you said you didn’t know where it was, and I had to walk you there. After practice we came back to check on you but you had just dozed off into your journal, so I sent you back here to rest and feel better.”

Hobi coughs and Namjoon turns to him, spoon sticking out of his mouth. “And then the _craziest_ part.” Hobi’s eyes were bugging out.

“We got home at night and you were… _cooking._ ”

The chef in question chokes on a piece of seaweed, his spoon falling from his mouth and clattering onto the table. “I was _what?_ ”

Yoongi chuckles, the crease in his forehead finally dissipating. “You were cooking the jjigae you're eating right now, and _nothing_ was wrong.” he deadpans.

Namjoon adopts Yoongi’s forehead crease in confusion and looks down at his bowl. He had pulled the soup out of the fridge earlier figuring Jin had left it. It tastes… good. Not just edible, but good.

…

Maybe he _was_ possessed.

Afraid to hear more about his out-of-body experience in the kitchen, he still swallowed and prompted, “... and after that?”

Jin smiles as if remembering Namjoon having a complete anti-personality meltdown was a fond one. “I don’t know, you were kinda… cute? We all questioned you and you just looked at us with your eyes like so, _so_ wide. I just made you go to bed since you must’ve been sick or something. No healthy Joon of mine could cook this.” Jin picked up Namjoon’s spoon to take a sip and shook his head.

Yoongi gets up and grabs some dishes to bring to the sink. He shakes his head from behind the kitchen counter. “We were preparing some kind of intervention for when you woke up this morning, but I guess it was unnecessary.”

Hobi pouts and puffs out his cereal-filled cheeks. “ _I wush gunna pway bwad cop._ ”

“In what way would good cop bad cop have helped?”

“Never mind that,” Jin waves his hand and pulls a fishbone from his teeth, “if you’re feeling okay, let’s just get ready for rehearsal and maybe you’ll remember something else once our minds are all up and active.”

Namjoon slumps his shoulders and looks back down at his magical soybean paste soup, stirring it in circles. He watches as the vegetables swirl around in the thick broth, and he realizes there’s onions in it.

He doesn’t even _know_ how to chop onions.

The day starts out as most do. The four walk down the block to their company building, braving the light drizzle and the early morning chill of the Seonam-gu district's streets. Hobi complains about the cold and the rain, and Yoongi stoically offers an arm for him to cling to for warmth.

When they reach the entertainment company's six-story building, tucked between a finance office building and a law firm (Namjoon finds that a little funny), they take the elevator straight to the top floor, heading to 9AM dance practice. The trainer flings eye daggers in Namjoon’s direction during a majority of the drills, and he pretends he simply can’t feel them poking at the back of his head during water breaks. 

Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, and Jung Hoseok are the four trainees currently arranged by BigHit Entertainment to debut as the company’s new boy group, “Bangtan Sonyeondan,” within the next couple months. After years of complications and delays, preparation for their first album had just begun, the company finally deciding that each member had progressed well enough to warrant an official debut, Namjoon as their chosen leader.

This being a success, however, that took the already busy and stressful life of the four boys and added the weight of an entire company’s success on top of it.

After a couple hours of dance training comes rap training, then physical conditioning (Namjoon hates sit-ups), and then the boys are sent to eat and work on their own personal projects for the rest of the day. The moment they are dismissed, Namjoon grabs his bag and beelines for the elevator, fleeing down four floors to his sanctuary.

2nd floor, 3rd door to the right of the Bighit Entertainment building lies the small studio they had designated to Namjoon, a place he often finds himself (and sometimes one of his clingy members) during his freetime. Along with training as performers, Namjoon and his members also work to get their lyrics and songs approved for their album, an endeavor that has Namjoon often working late hours, slaving away in his studio banging at his keyboard or surviving the night off cups of spicy ramen.

Due to the stress of his work, the four little red walls of his studio had witnessed many of his tears (not actually just from stress but also because he had the spice tolerance of a child). Despite being barely big enough to fit a desk, a recording setup, and two revolving chairs, it felt more like home than his bedroom most days, today being no exception. He quickly slid in and locked the door, sighing. The trainers had been no less than severely harsh today.

Even with the promise of their debut and being told they were “enough,” the company still holds the four boys to higher standards by the day. Some days they exceed, some days they don’t. A collective slump among the boys seems to have made the latter more often in recent times.

Attempting to disregard the pressure and stress from the day's events, Namjoon breathes in the stale air of his studio and focuses his mind on the part of his career he deals with everything else for. The music. The art.

Reaching into his bag, he pushes aside his camera and pulls out his old, leather bound journal, a culmination of a half a decade of things Namjoon had written. 

He skims through it, smiling at the pages and pages of polaroids taped in next to endless lines of poetry and lyrics. Namjoon kept his camera on him at all times in order to capture the next moment or picture that could inspire his next work.

After getting distracted long enough rereading a poem he had written about whales and stingrays after his middle school's aquarium field trip, he turns to the more recent pages, looking for some notes he had written a couple days ago. 

On the newest page, he doesn’t find the notes. He finds… _himself._

Or at least a drawing of himself. So accurate it has him almost entranced for a couple moments.

It's a sketch in pencil, of Namjoon looking straight back at him like a mirror, the almond shaped eyes so vivid it seems that they blink along with him as he stares. His hair is messy but each tuft is detailed almost down to the individual hair. He traces the jawline with his thumb, then pulls it back, afraid he might smudge it.

As he pulls back his hand a note under the drawing catches his eye. In messy drawl, it reads:

 ~~_Who am I?_ ~~ _Who are you?_

Before he can process who would have drawn this in his journal there’s a knock at his door. He slams the journal shut (not quite sure what he’s trying to hide) and gets up to see who it is.

The door opens for Namjoon to look down at a tired-faced Yoongi, hugging his laptop between his arms. Namjoon steps aside and Yoongi huffs as he comes in.

“Couldn't sit in my room for a minute longer.” He mumbles and plops down on the extra office chair, shrinking into it.

Namjoon was more fortunate than Yoongi when it came to room assignment, since even though Yoongi’s room was bigger, it was placed directly adjacent to the main vocal trainer’s room. All the practice rooms were supposed to be “soundproof” but Trainer Im’s projection ability apparently broke the laws of physics on a daily basis.

Namjoon chuckles as he sits down to click around through his computer. “Ah, was Madam Im reliving her opera days again?”

Yoongi doesn't laugh, only stares at his shoes.

“No uh... Jin-hyung was getting grilled again.”

Oh.

Namjoon pauses, regretting his joke. He turns his chair to face Yoongi.

“Was it bad?”

Yoongi’s hesitation gives enough of an answer, but he continues after a moment.

“She was fucking—” he stops and exhales sharply, “she kept bringing up how he’s been stunted ever since uh… what happened last year.”

Namjoon’s stomach twists, first with surprise, but then with a feeling of something deeper. 

_Anger._

“What? She can't say that shit.” Namjoon sits back in his chair in disbelief. After a moment of consideration, he starts to turn his chair to get up, but Yoongi places a hand on his knee to stop him.

“I know she shouldn't, and if she fucking _dared_ use his name like that I would've broken down the door and cussed her out myself, but…” he trails off, sighing, “It would've just gotten Jin-hyung into more shit than before.”

Namjoon swallows and settles back into his chair. Yoongi was right.

Jin was the only vocalist of the four, and took on more pressure than all of them combined, even with Namjoon picking up the role as leader. He pushed himself to no end, some days past the threshold his body and voice could take. Being the oldest, he never asked for help, and always hid from his dongsaengs when he was struggling. 

Couldn't hide as well as he hoped, unfortunately.

Hearing Jin’s progress belittled sets a fire in Namjoon, but he knows there isn’t much he can do. To make up for that he puts as much effort and love as he can into the little things, like making sure their cabinets were well stocked with peppermint tea and honey. When the boxes start to deplete suddenly and the kitchen kettle mysteriously grows legs to go hide in Jin’s room, nobody calls him out on it.

Namjoon and Yoongi sit in silence. After a beat,

“Jin can handle it. It's been worse before.”

It's not extremely comforting, but it seems to be the best they can believe for now, so Namjoon sighs and turns back to his computer. Yoongi opens his laptop and they begin to work in silence. 

Namjoon and Yoongi’s friendship is usually defined by comfortable silences, the pair taking comfort in each others’ mere presence rather than words, but as they work in this moment, Namjoon can feel Yoongi’s anxiety radiating from behind him.

He decides to try and distract him.

“Did you come up with a stage name yet?”

“Huh?” Namjoon hears Yoongi’s typing stop and his body sit up.

“A stage name. You said you didn't want to use Yoongi right?”

Yoongi takes a second to process Namjoon’s words and then rustles back into the chair again.

“Oh yea… well I uh… was thinking of something with ‘shoo’ like from ‘shooting guard,’” Namjoon nods as he opens a program. Despite his lax demeanor and average height, the boy could _hoop_ , occasionally dragging his three members to the park for 2v2s. The three took turns being Yoongi’s teammate, which they saw as taking turns _getting to win._

“And then Hobi said,” he lets out a high-pitched chuckle, “I should do shoo-gah. Like the English word. Since he said I'm uh,” a cough, “so sweet.”

Namjoon smiles and turns his chair around again to try to catch the rare sight of a blushing Min Yoongi. Jung Hoseok seemed to be the only person in the entire world capable of getting him flustered.

“Where is hyung right now?”

Talking about Hobi always seemed to light up Yoongi’s face, but to Namjoon’s dismay, Yoongi’s face actually pales in response to the question, the pink of his cheeks from before now nowhere to be found.

“Oh ah, he left for the day. Went off to his job.”

“The bakery?”

Yoongi looks back down at his screen.

“Yea… he left without telling a manager and they came to ask me where he went. Weren't very happy about it.”

Namjoon didn't know what to say. His plan to lighten the mood with a subject change had quickly backfired. “That's… okay. They can't stop him from wanting to work.”

Namjoon cringes and quickly regrets his words as Yoongi mumbles, “I wish _I_ could.”

Despite being known by most people in the building as “Sunshine Hobi,” Jung Hoseok, the man behind the bubbly demeanor and heart-shaped face, had his own share of hardships over the past couple years. Even with the now promised debut, he constantly questioned whether he wanted to be an idol, especially after years of both vocal and rap instructors bellitting his skills and saying he should “just stick to being the dancer.” He had taken up the bakery job a couple weeks ago without telling anyone at first, claiming it was just to make some extra spending money on the side.

Everyone seemed to know the real reason.

“Hyung…”

Yoongi waves him off, still looking down at his laptop. “It's fine Joon-ah. I just…” his next words are said in almost a whisper, as if he didn't actually want Namjoon to hear the sorrow laced into them.

“I don't know what I'd do if he left.”

Namjoon shuffles his chair forward and closer to Yoongi, but isn't sure what to do after. Barring Hobi’s “ninja attack hugs,” Yoongi was never one to accept much physical affection. Namjoon was never one to quickly offer it either.

Instead, Namjoon settles for sitting in front of him with relaxed shoulders and leaning down to rest his arms on his legs. Dipping down, he attempts to catch Yoongi’s lowered eyes and wordlessly say, _I’m open. I’m here._

“You know… he would never leave you.”

Yoongi looks up slightly from his laptop to meet Namjoon’s eyes. If he didn't know better, Namjoon would think Yoongi’s eyes shined a little more than usual, almost as if tears were starting to form.

“Namjoon-ah... I wish I could believe you.”

Yoongi and Namjoon get home after sundown, sopping wet. The morning’s drizzle had turned into a downpour in the late hours of the day. Hobi isn't home yet, and Jin’s door is locked. Namjoon gets up from the table and knocks more than a couple times throughout dinner. When Yoongi has gone to shower and Namjoon’s knocks have only been met with silence, he writes a note saying there’s fried chicken in the fridge and slides it under the door.

His bedsheets wrap around him and the lull of sleep quickly pulls him into the dark of his thoughts.

He’s…

he’s _so fucking tired._

There's nothing that drains him more than seeing his members struggle. Even after he was named their “leader,” his hyungs always looked after and doted on him, making sure he had everything he needed to thrive and grow. His heart wrenches in his chest as he thinks of the way Hobi’s eyes crinkle when he laughs. Thinks of Yoongi’s face lighting up as he listens to one of Namjoon's demos. Thinks of Jin’s thumb softly stroking his cheek, his palm warm and comforting. 

Helpless. That’s how he feels knowing he can’t do the same for them. Feels like he’s trying to pull them up from an edge, but can only watch as they cut themselves free, to fall and lighten his load.

 _Only a few more months_ , he thinks. They’ll debut, and things will get easier… or will they get harder? When he considers it, he doesn't really have an answer.

He falls asleep to the sound of the rain, picturing himself sinking into the dark. Reaching after his best friends.

* * *

_“...kook-ah…”_

It’s quiet all around him, except there seems to be a ringing somewhere far in the distance. The more he focuses on it the more he realizes… it isn’t actually quiet at all. There's some paper rustling, and the sound of a zipper closing up. 

That’s not the ringing he was trying to focus on, though. Namjoon groans and rolls over in bed pressing one ear into the pillow, trying to single out the noise.

_“Jungkook-ah…”_

It sounds clearer now… like a voice.

It’s quiet. Soft and smooth, but…

Angry?

 _“Jungkook-ah…_ **wake the fuck up!”**

All of a sudden Namjoon is being shaken, a pair of hands gripping his shoulders. He yelps and swats them away. In a knee-jerk reaction he puts his hand over his face to block out the light of the room. The voice huffs and he hears whoever it is start to shuffle around.

“ _Aishh,_ are you hungover again? You better not stay in bed all day like Thursday, Taehyungie knew you would be a lightweight but we didn't think you'd be _bedridden_ for your _entire birthday_.”

Namjoon feels his sore muscles slowly break free from sleep as he stirs. He groans and sits up, propping himself up on one arm. He blinks the stars out of his vision and reaches to the desk beside the bed for his glasses.

There’s nothing there.

He looks over to where his hand is, and realizes that he doesn’t see any glasses nearby.

But that’s the thing. He can _see._

He _sees_ that that isn’t his desk. _Sees_ that this isn’t his room.

“Where am I—” He places a hand at his throat.

That’s… not even his voice.

After a moment’s confusion he looks up and takes in his surroundings. He sits in a quaintly sized bedroom, tangled up in sheets he doesn’t recognize. There’s another bed and desk to match his at the corner across from him, neatly made and decorated with Pokemon plushies. Namjoon slowly scans the room. It’s much cleaner and more organized than his own, despite the trash can next to the desk almost overflowing with Pepero boxes and hot cheeto bags. He feels a small sense of warmth seeing that the neatness doesn’t make the room any less home-y, taking in the numerous posters on the wall dedicated to girl groups and anime he doesn’t recognize.

To his right there’s a short hallway leading to two doors. A head peaks out from the doorway on the left.

“You’re in our room, but you’ll be in _hell_ soon enough if you make us late to Taehyung’s.”

Namjoon blinks at the pink-haired boy smiling at him, his face spotted with greenish soap foam. His voice is sharp, but his soft smile betrays his tone.

“It’s already the afternoon. Hurry and wash up so we can leave.”

Several disorienting minutes later, Namjoon finds himself staring into someone else’s face in what he thinks is supposed to be a mirror. What he sees makes him unsure.

At first the only thing he can process are the eyes. The big, round, _open,_ eyes. Deep brown orbs sparkle back at him, the line between pupil and iris hard to distinguish in the low light of the bathroom. He blinks a couple times, breaking the trance enough to take in the rest of his features. 

Still damp from scrubbing off the lingering sleep and sweat, he watches as a drop of soapy water travels down his jaw to his soft chin. His hair is black and his bangs have a light wave to them, falling just above his eyes. His quite prominent nose sits above a small mouth. He bites his lip as he reaches up to cup his face, delicately placing his finger on a small scar adorning his left cheek. His skin is soft and a little on the paler side.

 _Cute_ , Namjoon’s mind quips.

A little embarrassed at the thought, he jumps at a _thunk_ on the door. His roommate’s(?) voice rings out.

“Yah, we don’t have all day, hurry and shower!”

If Namjoon thought he was embarrassed a second ago, he’s _definitely_ embarrassed at the thought of showering. His cheeks (or I guess not his?) redden at the thought. He looks at the shower to his right and reaches to pull aside the curtain. He swallows.

_Is this some kind of perverted dream?_

Trying not to think too much, he pulls off his large sleep shirt. Curiosity gets the better of him and he glances back in the mirror. He blanches.

Oh, this is _definitely_ a perverted dream.

His horny-ass brain (Jin prefers to use “ _deprived_ ” as a euphemism) really had to make him this fucking _ripped?_ He stares slack-jawed at his toned shoulders, then down his broad chest to his abs (abs can look like that?), and then past that to his sweatpants and his—

…

“Uh I don’t think I have to shower, let’s just go.”

His shirt is back on and he’s out the bathroom door, before his face can heat up any more.

After dressing himself from a wardrobe of almost all black and slinging the bag on his desk over his shoulder, he finds himself sitting in the car of his roommate, who he still doesn’t know the name of. He had risked addressing him as hyung earlier and the other didn’t flinch, so he assumed they were older and he could use the formality as a crutch until he caught on.

His hyung taps his finger on the steering wheel as he drives, quietly singing along to the pop track playing from the radio.

“ _I wanna tame your lion heeart,”_ he starts to hum the next part.

Namjoon looks out the window as the scenery flows by. They’re in Busan, he gathered as much from the signs on the freeway. He could see the ocean peeking out from behind the buildings, a luscious blue green landscape of waves and sparkles. Even in the bubble of the car’s interior he could smell the sea salt.

A breath of fresh air, away from the dreary smog of Seoul. 

“You okay?”

Namjoon’s attention is diverted from the window. “Hm?”

“You love Lion Heart. Never seen you so silent during it before. I’m kinda surprised you’re not dancing and nailing Taeyeon’s lines.”

He’s smiling and his tone is facetious, but Namjoon can see concern in his eyes. He tenses and hesitates to respond. He doesn’t recognize the song.

“Ah, I’m uh… just tired hyung.”

Said hyung spares him another curious glance and then focuses back on the road, a hint of a pout pushing up his round cheeks.

“Mm... okay, Jungkook-ah.”

Namjoon turns back to the window, shoulders relaxing in relief.

_Jungkook._

He remembers hearing the name as he was woken up. Guess that’s who he is for the day.

...or night? This is a dream, right?

“Taehyung” lives in a house in a slightly quieter part of the city, and Jimin muses as they walk in about how theatre kids have interesting choices in decoration. Namjoon decides not to also comment on the various types of decorative rocks littered around the living room.

“Woo-Shik says they bring luck and wealth, apparently. Don’t be rude, Jiminie.” 

Taehyung is a boy about the same height as Namjoon (sorry, _Jungkook,_ not Namjoon,) but with curlier, longer hair and broader shoulders. His eyes crinkle as he greets the two with a smile.

“Ready to tear up the streets?” He skips as he leads them to the garage of the house.

Namjoon realizes that in the rush of experiencing the morning of _someone else’s_ life, he was too caught up to ask exactly where and what his roommate (Jimin, as Taehyung called him) was taking him to do. He stares as Taehyung opens the door to find a drumset, keyboard, and guitar set up on an old rug in the garage. Taehyung presses a button on the wall and the garage starts to groan as it slowly opens, revealing Jimin’s car sitting outside. 

“ _Let’s get it_ , right, Kookie?” Jimin nudges his shoulder and grins, moving forward to pop open his trunk. 

_It,_ Namjoon belatedly realizes, must be some type of busking, as he stands frozen with a guitar strapped to his back, watching as a large crowd flows around them. The trio had driven a few minutes to a busy shopping mall and set up in one of the main plazas, near a fountain. Countless people pass them by, families and couples sitting at the tables nearby eating meals and sipping iced lattes under the protection of the tables’ light green umbrellas. The overcast clouds overhead do nothing to dampen the flow and energy of the crowd as they go about their business.

Namjoon knows he's literally training to be an idol, but when he thinks back to what Jimin said in the car, Jungkook must be a _singer._ The _main_ singer of the group, considering how they placed his mic front and center, setting up the keyboard and drumset behind him to the side.

Namjoon pales at the thought of having to sing. He takes occasional vocal lessons at BigHit and of course has to sing and be able to hold pitch well to record demos, but he's never thought of his voice as stellar. As he pushes past his nerves and actually starts to process what's about to happen, he also realizes that he doesn't even know what songs they're gonna sing. Or, more importantly, how to even _play the guitar_ Jimin had handed him.

 _Fuck_. He quickly spins around to face Jimin and waves his hand to get his attention. Jimin looks up from his music stand and raises an eyebrow.

“Hyung I… I can't play guitar.”

Jimin stares at him for a second and lets out a little laugh.

“What do you mean?”

Namjoon improvises.

“I um… can't remember any of the songs.” _Not really a lie_ , he thinks.

Jimin’s eyebrows knit together as he stares at him, confused. “We practiced them yesterday. Of course you remember.”

Namjoon feels bad, but he'd feel worse ruining the songs completely. “I don't know what happened, but I just can't play them right now. Maybe you guys should just perform without me?” He tries to sound nervous in order to convince Jimin and realizes it's not very hard to.

The glare he receives in response makes his neck hairs stand on end. “You put together 70% of our setlist, Kookie. Stop joking around,” Jimin bristles.

There’s a hand placed on Namjoon’s shoulder and he turns to find Taehyung had gotten up from behind his drumset. His eyes are deep, searching. “Are you feeling okay? You’ve looked shaken up this entire morning.”

Namjoon curls in seeing such genuine concern in the eyes of someone who, to him, is virtually a stranger. “I, uh…”

Taehyung let’s go of his shoulder and turns to Jimin. “If you play all the chords then we’ll be fine without the guitar right?”

“Well, yea, but—”

“Then we’ll do that. If he’s not feeling well we can’t force him, Jimin.” 

“But—”

Taehyung’s head is turned away from him and Namjoon can only see the back of it, but whatever expression he sends toward Jimin has the pianist looking away quickly. “Yea, okay.” Namjoon observes that Jimin’s face betraying his words may be a bit of a trend.

Taehyung turns to face Namjoon again,“Don’t worry Kookie. Your hyungs got you. Let’s just have fun, yea?”

Namjoon sighs in relief that someone took pity on him, but the relief is short-lived as Taehyung sits down and speaks into the mic set up to his side.

“Helloooo everyone, hope you’re enjoying your day. We’re the Golden Boys, and we’re gonna be busting out some jams for you this afternoon. Take it away, Jimin.”

A piano chord starts the song and Namjoon pales. He got out of playing guitar but he _still_ _doesn’t know the lyrics_.

Luckily, Jimin starts singing first, and Namjoon has a little more time to breathe and calm his panic. To his relief he recognizes the song, an Urban Zapaka one he remembers Yoongi would whistle often. Jimin is singing the chorus and as Taehyung accompanies his chords and soft vocal lines with a soft high-hat beat, Namjoon realizes he probably has the verse. He tries to remember it, but nothing comes to mind.

Almost at a loss, a last-minute idea pops into his head and he swallows as Jimin approaches the end of his section.

...Taehyung said to have fun, right?

Jimin’s voice hits a soft break, a cue Namjoon takes to breathe in before doing what he does best… _rapping._

Although he can’t remember the original message of the song (other than something about a lover and metaphors comparing them to coffee), he decides to rap about the memories of a past love story, as if he were sitting in a cafe thinking of someone he’d missed. The words come easily, spilling out in a relaxed flow, as Namjoon has much experience writing lyrics and rapping about love in countless words and analogies.

He hears Taehyung stutter on one of the beats, and Jimin’s chords stay right on course but he can feel the aura of confusion resonate from behind him. A couple passersbys stop to stand and watch them. A young couple huddles closer in the cold ocean breeze as they listen. Namjoon smiles at the thought of it.

After a couple measures Jimin repeats the chorus, joined by Taehyung. Again Namjoon raps, and then they all sing the chorus one last time to end the song, Namjoon able to sing along having heard it twice now. Jungkook has a nice voice, silky and youthful, so he can see why he’s a singer.

The song tapers out with Jimin playing a soft ascending piano line. There’s a pleasant round of claps, and a couple people leave a bill or two in the box Taehyung set up in front of them. The girl who was cuddling up with her boyfriend during the song also takes a business card, and smiles at Namjoon before she turns back to her moony-eyed companion as they walk away.

Namjoon turns to find two statued versions of his shocked hyungs staring at him. He grimaces and reaches up a hand to scratch the back of his neck.

Jimin looks crazed. “What the fuck was that?” He belatedly covers his mic with his hand.

Taehyung quickly shakes out Medusa’s curse and laughs. “Whatever that was, can you... do it again? That was the best crowd response I think we’ve ever had.”

“Uh… yea. I can.” Namjoon’s grimace turns into a real smile as he mirrors Taehyung’s goofy grin.

After a couple songs Namjoon’s brain is haywire from all the freestyling, so he ends up reusing some verses he's written in the past (what Jimin and Taehyung don't know won't hurt them). All three of them smile brighter and bounce to the music a bit more as passerbys keep stopping to watch them, continuously bowing and offering whispered thanks as many leave tips between songs.

By dinner time, Taehyung’s smile makes it seem like the sun hasn't started descending from the sky quite yet. 

“Tonight we eat like kings, all thanks to our golden maknae!” He raises his soju bottle and the other two raise theirs in tandem. 

Jimin mumbles something as he unloads a plate of chadol onto the grill, but nobody catches it.

“Keep that up and we’ll be YouTube stars in no time, Kookie! The way people were staring at us today you’d think we were on fire.”

Namjoon blushes, and then wonders how his shyness looks on Jungkook’s cheeks. He promptly dismisses the thought.

They eat and drink (Jimin and Taehyung don't let more than a bottle enter Jungkook’s body, citing past disasters) until they are all half asleep and Taehyung calls for the bill. He leaves a generous tip and they leave the restaurant as the staff begins to clean up for the night. 

Despite their lingering food comas and the now light drizzle of rain over the marketplace, Taehyung bounces on his heels and asks if they want to go for a walk.

“I'm tired, I'll just drive back to unload and take a nap, meet you guys there.” Jimin walks away before either of the other two can usher in a word of protest.

They watch him disappear behind a corner. Namjoon isn’t sure why he feels a pang of guilt.

“Don't worry about him,” Taehyung assures, “I think diverging from the set list stressed him out a little, but I'll talk to him about it when we get home.”

Namjoon holds his gaze and Taehyung offers a small nonchalant smile. “C’mon, walk with me.”

The night life of Busan seems similar to that of Seoul, but with older buildings (and noticeably older business owners). They walk through the slowly thinning crowd of the night market, wafting through clouds of steam rising from every ahjumma's street food stand they pass.

“You’re different today.”

Namjoon inhales sharply.

“Oh, uh…”  
  
Taehyung takes his hand as they weave through a particularly crowded area. Namjoon stares down at Jungkook’s hand linked with Taehyung’s as he’s pulled along.

He chuckles. “Relax, I don’t mean it in a bad way. Quite the opposite, really. You should do it more often.”

Namjoon looks up at the back of Taehyung’s head. His curls are shiny and reflect the neon blues and pinks of the market’s signs.

“The rapping?”

They get to a thinning of the crowd and Taehyung turns, still holding onto his hand.

A warm smile. “Not that, silly. The part where you tell us what’s wrong.”

Namjoon blanks at that and Taehyung continues.

“No offense, really, but you’re always… trying so hard. Always trying to be the perfect one, the strong one. I know you hate it, but your _big ass eyes_ give away more than you think,” He taps his index finger on his cheek to point at his own eye.

“Even when Jimin and I can see you struggling, you don’t let us in. Not enough, anyway.”

Namjoon swallows, trying not to break eye contact. He can’t speak on behalf of someone whose personality he only knows about from what other people have said throughout a single day. 

“I, uh… I’m sorry?” he attempts, but the latter end of his apology curves up like a question.

Taehyung doesn’t let him try again. “Don’t apologize, I’m not trying to lecture you or anything. I just,” he exhales softly, “it was uh... cute seeing you flustered like that today. Not your usually bunny-front-teeth-kinda cute but like, a _wow-he’s-letting-us-take-care-of-him_ kinda cute, you know? Maybe do that more often.”

Namjoon feels warm and fuzzy at the words, and gives a smile as Taehyung’s own grows into a toothy grin.

He pulls his hand away and starts to walk again. “Don’t get me wrong, the rapping was _cool as shit_ , do that too.”

They both laugh, Namjoon matching Taehyung’s relaxed stride into the night.

They walk for a while, maybe ten minutes, maybe twenty. The conversation is sparse but not stale. Taehyung chatters about the areas they walk through as they approach his house. They’re now on the sidewalk of a quiet road, lined by small trees. Most of them have started to lose their leaves, the ones still hanging on heavy and wet, dripping off as much weight as they can to stay attached to their branch. The occasional falling dewdrop finds its way onto Namjoon’s cheek, making him flinch.

Or Jungkook’s cheek, actually. His nerves have calmed to the point where he forgets about his situation for a couple seconds. 

Taehyung suddenly stops walking with a gasp and Namjoon almost walks into him.

“Look!”

He peers at the tree Taehyung is pointing at and sees something he’s not sure he’s ever seen before.

A butterfly sits on an empty branch, its wings a deep royal blue, framed by the sparkling dewdrops speckled around it. It flutters a little as it sits and weathers the drizzle of rain, but pays its two new admirers no mind.

They approach it slowly, Taehyung trying not to splash any of the puddles littered about. “That’s kinda crazy, do you have your camera? Just turn off the flash.”

Namjoon is confused for a second but then reaches into Jungkook's bag (he realizes he hadn’t actually checked it’s contents all day) and is surprised to find a camera like his own back in Seoul. There’s some stickers on Jungkook’s and it seems a little more beat up, but the buttons are familiar nonetheless.

Before the chance is missed, Namjoon switches off the flash and points.

_click._

They shuffle around the tree carefully in order not to disturb her majesty and continue walking, Taehyung glancing back as Namjoon pulls the polaroid out of the small printer slot. It develops quite quickly, and although the photo is dark, the blues of the butterfly’s wings leap out of the photo, shining in the soft streetlamp light.

“That’s _so_ cool,” Taehyung muses, “I only ever really see butterflies in spring or summer, but on an autumn night _and_ in the rain? What are the chances?”

Namjoon smiles down at the photo, wishing he could keep such a memorable image for himself. He slots it into Jungkook’s bag and secures it, committing the image to his memory instead.

_What a strange dream._

Namjoon is finally back in the room he woke up in, sat at the desk as Jimin is fast asleep in bed. After watching a movie at Taehyung’s and leaving after midnight, Jimin was in a much better mood and ruffled Jungkook’s fluffy hair before knocking right out.

Despite the day feeling incredibly long and almost dragged out, Namjoon is still buzzing with energy as his mind processes everything that happened. Will he remember all of this when he wakes up?

When he found the camera he also noticed a leatherbound journal in his bag, and had decided to look through it since it had piqued his curiosity.

It’s less of a journal and more of a sketchbook, Namjoon finds, drawings decorating the pages with what must have been years of artwork. There’s entries of writing here and there, but there’s mostly penciled drawings of various subjects, from flowers to Gundams to stunningly realistic portraits of people.

Curiously, Namjoon notices that a particular person appears more than most: _Taehyung._ His messy hair and eye-crinkled grin pop out of more than a couple sections.

 _Maybe a crush?_ Namjoon speculates. Considering the way Taehyung had treated him today, the idea isn’t very far-fetched. Namjoon laughs in his mind at the thought of maybe having done Jungkook a few favors.

He decides to look for the most recent page and maybe pen in an entry of his own. When he gets there, he almost drops his pencil.

Gazing back at him from the page is an almost perfectly accurate portrait of himself.

Not himself as in Jungkook, but… _himself._ Namjoon.

He stares in awe for a moment as he takes in his own features and shadows from the sketch, feeling an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. The feeling morphs into a memory.

~~_Who am I?_ ~~ _Who are you?_

Namjoon isn’t sure why, but the realization sparks something warm somewhere underneath his solar plexus. He quickly pencils under the drawing of himself:

_Kim Namjoon. Nice to meet you, Jungkook._

After jotting down a short description of the day’s events, Namjoon lies in bed and feels sleep start to quickly pull him away. As he sighs into the sheets, he thinks.

_It was nice to be somebody else for a while._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/averyseptember)  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/averyseptember)  
> [fic thread (pls like/rt/share if you enjoyed)](https://twitter.com/averyseptember/status/1339267264688754689?s=20)  
>   
> Hello !! A lot happens in this chapter and I'm actually very afraid that it dragged on, but I hope you enjoyed it. The little bit of taekook (or is it actually vmon?) fluff was cute to write.
> 
> Also full disclaimer: Although BigHit does exist in this story, this is still an AU and in no way am I trying to claim the process of BTS's training in this story is completely accurate to real life. Also Seonam-gu is a fictional district of Seoul.
> 
> Thank you to Morgan, Ashley, Leann, Abi, and Kayla for being my beta readers :') I'm sorry I forget so many commas.
> 
> Dumb Thoughts:  
> \- no one: hi- me: JIN CUPS NAMJOONIE FACE  
> \- Namjoon can't even chop onions so why am I still crying thinking about him  
> \- honestly in my outline and everything I had no plan of writing in sope but when I wrote last chapter my knee jerk reaction when coming up with why they would be late to a meeting was because they were distracted and cuddling so yea I guess it happened  
> \- did you guys see the parasite reference LOL  
> \- coffee will forever be one of my top BTS songs I don't trust anyone who dislikes it  
> 


	3. Sweet Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3l2dgQ7b2Ycj9AWfuMgWw0?si=bBaU__iiScKMHckpN_ky-Q) I made especially for this fic.

_How could I know_

_One day I'd wake up feeling more_

_But I had already reached the shore_

_Guess we were ships in the night_

_\- “Sweet Night” by V -_

_“... and after BBQ I walked back with Taehyung. His hand in mine almost felt as warm as his smile.”_

Jimin jumps as Jungkook’s chopsticks drop into his cup, splashing drops of ramen broth onto the table.

“Whoa, be careful!”

Jungkook doesn’t hear his hyung’s chiding as he stares down at the page.

Jimin and he were currently sitting at his desk for a regular weekend dinner, the everlasting ritual of Jimin setting up his laptop to play Running Man as they both inhaled Shin Ramyun. Having also opened his sketchbook to maybe get in a doodle or two, Jungkook had found an entry he didn’t remember. It wasn’t in his handwriting either.

He didn’t write this. And he _definitely_ hasn’t held Taehyung’s hand before.

...He would remember if he did.

Jungkook is lost in space for a moment, nothing but him and the writing on the page, before coming back down to Jimin’s raised eyebrow.

“Ah, uh, sorry hyung.” He grabs a tissue and starts to swipe it across the desk, luckily none of it having touched Jimin’s MacBook.

He thinks back to the events of the day. After waking up right before noon he had gone to rouse Jimin for practice, who had pushed him away, annoyed. Jimin had questioned Jungkook and his sense of time before curling right back into his sheets. In confusion, Jungkook had facetimed Taehyung, who had informed him that they indeed did not have busking that day.

_“Although, if you wanna make more money with your new skills, we could go back to the mall today,” Taehyung teased coyly. He winked at the camera._

_Jungkook blushed and in a fluster abruptly hung up._

Coming to the realization that it was in fact a Sunday, Jungkook had gotten lost in thought, scanning his mind for the previous day’s events. Everything was hazy, but not hazy to the point of unconsciousness. He had definitely been doing something, been somewhere… but what? Where?

Despite Jungkook’s odd bout of amnesia, the day ended up being just a regular Sunday of catching up on classwork. Now late in the evening, he had found that this mysterious entry may be the answer to his questions.

_Kim Namjoon. Nice to meet you Jungkook._

The name rings a bell. Multiple, in fact. Jungkook hears the bell of a subway train announcement, the ringing bells of street vendors. Hears the rain on the windows and the smell of doenjang-jjigae wafting throughout a small apartment. Hears the bells of Hobi’s giggles.

...Hobi?

It hits him.

Hobi. Yoongi. Jin. Namjoon.

_Namjoon._

Jungkook stands up abruptly, narrowly avoiding banging his knee on his desk. He shuffles around a slurping Jimin entranced by a dancing Yoo Jaesuk and rushes into the bathroom. Staring into the mirror, he brings his hand up to his cheek.

That’s his face, definitely… but before, it wasn’t… it was Namjoon’s. The face he had imprinted in his memory, sketched into his brain and later transferred into his journal. 

_The face of the boy in his dreams._

Somewhere a subway bell dings and Jungkook’s eyes widen.

Oh _fuck_ no.

This explains why he doesn’t remember his birthday. Why he doesn’t remember yesterday. Why he doesn’t remember fucking _openly flirting with Taehyung._

He walks back to his desk and picks up his pencil, starting to write. He knows how to handle this.

 _Pfft._ Jungkook’s read enough webtoons to know what’s going on here.

* * *

Namjoon reaches for his glasses and again finds them missing. Again finds himself in the familiar room with a familiar pink-haired floof cuddled up with a Charmander across the room. But this time instead of just a lack of glasses, the desk holds a journal with a post-it attached, “read me” bolded in red marker.

_Okay, hi. Namjoon. Nice to meet you. Or be you, I guess? I'm sure by now you've figured out what's happening. If not, let me explain._

In a couple of short sentences, Jungkook had explained the “body switching” phenomenon to Namjoon like it was as common and normal as catching a cold.

 _This is obviously crazy and ridiculous, but we should be fine. We’re lucky it's this and not the haki haki disease_.

Namjoon would have to Naver search that later. 

Although neither of them knew why this had started or how, Jungkook just pointed out that they seemed to switch bodies randomly in their sleep a couple times a week. Instead of trying to avoid sleeping (citing that he was never one to skip out on it) Jungkook suggested leaving guidelines and rules in order to maintain each other's lifestyles. 

Following his message was a list of things Namjoon should keep in mind while living Jungkook’s life, including his class schedule and some personal bullets, ranging from “never turn down banana milk” to “buy Jimin hot chocolate from the library cafe when he’s sad.”

It’s a lot to take in, but Namjoon feels a slight mirth in his chest at the head-on approach Jungkook has for the situation. It feels like he should be nervous, scared, probably more freaked out than he is, but he feels almost… excited?

He glances around, taking in the quaint friendly room that temporarily houses him. Closes his eyes, and feels his breath fill the lungs of the _body_ that temporarily houses him.

Maybe... it’ll be nice being someone else for a while.

* * *

Despite Jungkook’s confidence in his organization and strategy, the next week comes in growing chaos. The two had agreed to leave updates of what happens in each others’ lives, using both of their polaroid cameras as well as their respective journals. The pages progressively got messier and messier, multiple threads of questions and comments left for the other, whether it be about how to go about certain situations or how _definitely not_ to go about them.

However, after a day or two of stumbling (Jungkook struggling to remember the dorm’s passcode and Namjoon having to search up Busan Satoori guides on Naver), both boys had actually started to slowly take likings to the contexts and opportunities of each others’ lives, and both started taking liberties with some parts of the situation they maybe wouldn’t care to admit to each other.

After realizing Namjoon basically had one of his _childhood dream jobs_ as an idol trainee, Jungkook had maybe been a _little bit_ excited. How this slight bit of excitement turned into volunteering Namjoon for a month of intense vocal lessons would be a question for Namjoon to ask and Jungkook to deflect later. Among… _many_ other questions Namjoon had for him.

_“Is this many steps in a skincare routine really necessary? I'd never even heard of face serum until now.”_

_“Absolutely. How are you a trainee and don't know these things?”_

_“I'm not a gross unhygienic person or whatever but 12-steps seems a little excessive”_

_“Says the man who has assigned socks for days of the week? Speaking of that, it doesn't make sense that you have assigned socks but your room is a mess.”_

_“I don't need to clean my room to be able to wear my favorite cat socks on Tuesdays. Hobi loves them.”_

_“Why did Jin just ask me to sing Adele with him today?” Namjoon wrote._

_“...He may have witnessed me giving a free concert of ‘Someone Like You’ from the shower.”_

_“!!!??!!! I thought we agreed on no showering!?”_

_Jungkook’s blood drained out of his face when he saw this, the next second having all of it rush back with more to spare._

_“I was sweaty after dance practice, sorry!!!! Didn’t wanna mess up your sheets.”_

_He drew a little smiley face at the end to further decriminalize himself._

To be fair, Namjoon was also taking his fair share of opportunities to enjoy his time away from his trainee life. Away from his trainee diet, among other things.

_“You spent 70000 won at a bakery?” Jungkook had scribbled, clearly having broken a pencil tip partway through one of the smudged words._

_Namjoon smiled as he wrote back, “... the chocolate creme bun was really good.”_

_“So you ate 15!?”_

_“Technically, you ate fifteen.”_

_“Namjoon pleeeeease stop rapping for busking sessions, Taehyung keeps saying he’s expecting a mixtape by next week.”_

_“Maybe I'll get one out for you to make him smile.”_

_“Namjoon...”_

Jungkook shuts Namjoon’s journal and groans into the quiet of Namjoon’s studio. At first, Jungkook had written _“let’s try not to mess with our relationships and friends”_ but that had soon enough turned into _“Namjoon stop flirting with Taehyung I swear to god.”_ Namjoon would always only respond with small scribbled winky faces. For someone who was chosen to be the leader of a boy group, he sure _didn’t know how to follow directions._

Taehyung had just been a little puppy crush from over the years. Jungkook watched in awe as his high school hyung grew into himself, a slightly stoic and quiet boy with braces gradually sliding into unabashed extroversion and toothy flashes of sunshine. How Namjoon had figured it out was beyond Jungkook, but that wasn't permission for him to be a pseudo-wingman. More like a hijacking pilot, really.

Despite Jungkook’s frustration, he still tried his best to fill out his role as a substitute Namjoon. However, Jungkook found that “ _tr_ _ied his best”_ were the keywords there, learning that being Namjoon also meant being the caretaker of three other boys. Three other _older men,_ actually.

For his first couple days of confusion the hyungs had taken care of him and doted over him coyly, but he realized how much Namjoon also did for them soon enough. 

Hobi would come to him for help with his English assignments, and even though Jungkook’s literal _worst_ score in school was English, he read through the directions with him and tried to play it off like Namjoon hadn’t suddenly forgotten an entire language.

Yoongi came and went from the small studio, always coming to Namjoon for opinions on lyrics, tracks, anything. Jungkook could see the respect the elder held for Namjoon's thoughts and tried to give his own insight on certain things. Jungkook had written songs for the Golden Boys before, and learned a lot from exchanging Yoongi’s sage words about his creative process.

And Jin. Well, Jin was where things were the hardest. Based on his movements and his pointed glances from the first couple days, Jungkook guessed that Namjoon and him must have some sort of telepathic connection, imagining it must be similar to what he observes in the eye conversations between Jimin and Taehyung. Jungkook had yet to tune in to the right frequency, as he could see the words in Jin’s eyes but couldn't quite make them out. 

Turns out the telepathic connection did exist, as when Namjoon left a full five pages of _“things to keep in mind as me,”_ a full two pages were devoted to somehow or the other watching out for Jin. 

So, as Jungkook ran to the convenience store to grab a specific brand of contact solution or made sure to grab an order of naengmyeon on the way back to the dorm for a bad day, he learned that keeping a mind full of Jin and the hyungs was simply a part of being Namjoon.

“Oh, Namjoon-ssi! It's been so long! Soobin-ah and I have missed you!”

Jungkook startles as the middle-aged woman pops her head out from a storefront. After a split second of confusion, he kicks into gear and puts down the grocery bags he had been holding. He bows slightly. “Ah, nice to see you,” he plays along, “How is Soobin-ah?” 

“Oh, he's been doing so well with his English scores ever since your old tutoring sessions, and I always scold him for not getting you something to thank you.” The short woman wipes her hands on her apron as she pauses. Her small round face then quickly lights up again. “Oh! Actually, wait right here.”

Before Jungkook can react she hops back into her store, seeming to be a florist-type business, and returns shortly holding a small potted tree in her hands.

“I remember how you showed Soobin that passage about bonsai care. He complained about the comprehension questions and studying it, but he told me you must like the idea since you knew so much about it. I know you said we already paid you too much, but you seem like the caring type so I think I can trust you with this little guy for free,” she winks.

Jungkook can only blink at the overwhelmingly warm words from the woman, and then bows and takes the plant from her. 

“Thank you so much, noona. I will take good care of it.”

She snorts as she walks back into the building, the bell on the door chiming as it opens and closes, “I'm sure you will, but you flatter me, I'm much too old to be your noona.”

Jungkook stares at the door for a moment, slightly caught off guard by the sudden but pleasant encounter. He picks up the grocery bags and tucks the bonsai in his arm as he continues back to the dorm. He smiles at the small tree as he walks.

It had taken Jungkook a bit to adjust to the lankiness and height of Namjoon, and to his amusement, it seemed Namjoon barely had a handle of it himself, the amount of broken and dented things in his room as much of a testament to this as Jin repeatedly calling him a “God of Destruction” after he knocked a glass of water off the dinner table.

Learning that such a deity was interested in something as peaceful and delicate as bonsai care was surprising, in a good way.

In a _cute_ way, his mind hums.

* * *

Namjoon finds that outside of a vigorous gym and skincare routine, Jungkook must not take good care of himself.

If Taehyung’s words from that night in the street market weren't warning enough, the schedule Jungkook leaves for Namjoon in the journal definitely is. Every day of the week is planned down to the hour, and between design classes, dance team, part-time work, volunteering, exercising, and Golden Boys rehearsal, the only free time Jungkook seems to leave himself are on the days of busking and the late-night hours penned in as “epic gamer grind (optional).” Namjoon is no stranger to physical overwork as a trainee, but he finds that Jungkook might one-up him in this regard.

It's as he's sitting on the floor of a primary school clubroom that he comes to this realization about his borrowed body. He rubs the back of his neck (Jungkook’s body seems to be perpetually sore) and considers writing Jungkook a concerned note later when something wet splats onto the bridge of his nose. He scrunches his eyes and tenses on instinct, but he relaxes when he hears the ringing of high-pitched squeaky giggles. They remind him of Hobi and Jin.

“Jeon-saengnim, I'm so sorry,” little Harin giggles as she puts down her tiny paintbrush, clearly not feeling any semblance of the word _sorry_. “It looks good on you though.”

Namjoon loves kids, and Jungkook’s art class volunteer hours were by far one of the favorite parts about his new-found routine. Although he couldn't draw or paint anything near the level of Jungkook’s art, he loved mixing the different colors of oil paint with each other until Harin and the other kids giggled as they swirled and morphed into an ugly olive-brown. Loved hanging up the finger and brush paintings of ice-cream-eating alpacas and warrior-unicorns against the window in the golden afternoon sun as all the kids waved goodbye to him and scurried home for the day. 

Namjoon made no effort to wipe the paint off his nose, instead wiggling his eyebrows and making an ugly face to make the young girl giggle more. “Oh yea, what color is it, Harin-ie? How does it improve my dashing good looks?”

Jungkook had dashing good looks, Namjoon thought, objectively speaking.

Harin rolled her eyes. “Yellow, it looks happy,” she explained matter-of-factly, like both Namjoon and Jungkook weren't more than double her age, “It looks better… because you always look so sad and tired.”

_Oh._

Namjoon blanches. How topical, he thinks. _Right on the nose,_ his mind supplies, and he rolls his eyes at the pun. Jin would be proud.

Namjoon grimaces. “Uh… thank you, Harin. Maybe I should wear yellow more?”

The young girl smiles and flashes an endearingly loose canine. “Next class we can all paint you in yellow!”

Namjoon's grimace turns into a genuine smile at the sight. “Yes, I think Jungko—uh, I—would like that.”

Namjoon figures that Jungkook’s packed schedule seems to stem from a desire to constantly improve himself, evident from the compliments from his hyungs and fellow dance team members about his work ethic and talent. As admirable as it is, Namjoon can quite literally _feel_ the toll it takes on Jungkook’s body. Although they're both 18, Namjoon thinks that the work Jungkook puts on himself may literally be _aging_ him faster.

Maybe that's why he breaks some of Jungkook's rules. Although he knows a part of it is indulging in his own desires away from trainee life, he thinks Jungkook should have more things to enjoy outside of his work and personal journey to perfection.

More sweets, more naps, and more… Taehyung.

Jungkook’s incessant complaint comments left for Namjoon in their journals had more or less confirmed the theory of Jungkook’s crush. Namjoon just teased back, and although a part of him felt like he was meddling, he knew what Jungkook wanted and figured he deserved it, even if he wouldn’t go get it himself.

So a couple out-of-the-blue grabs for coffee with Taehyung couldn’t hurt. A couple forehead presses into the taller’s broad shoulders as he laughed couldn’t hurt either, especially seeing the pink on Taehyung’s cheeks when he pulled away. And when Taehyung plays with the hem of his sweater and asks him if he wants to “maybe go out next Saturday and do something nice?... like… a date?”...

“Sure, sounds great.” Namjoon quips, and laughs softly at the flustered look on Taehyung’s face.

...that couldn’t hurt either, _right?_

_Wrong._

Jungkook gets up from Namjoon’s bedroom desk and stomps into the dorm living room, resisting the urge to explode from what he just read.

_You have a date with Taehyung Friday !!! Get pumped !!! I already called you off from work and Eunbee said she’d cover your shift, so you can’t get out of it now. I know you’re a nervous and shy edgy boy, so in case you get to go on this date instead of me, here’s some websites you can look up to help you out with how to do this. Fighting !!!_

Jungkook had slammed the journal shut after reading the first item on the list ( _“So They're Out of Your League and You're Hopelessly in Love”_ ).

 _He’s teasing me._ Jungkook huffed and resisted the urge to tear out his hair but then paused, his fingers threading through the blond strands. 

Namjoon’s hair. 

Not missing a beat, he walked over to Jin’s room and knocked, opening it slightly. Jin looked up from his computer and the sounds of Maplestory, pushing up his thick glasses.

“Joonie, what’s up?”

“Hyung, can you come to the store and help me with something?”

Jungkook was a spiteful person, he would admit that.

_“Purple!!!!!??????!!!????”_ The number of exclamation points decorating the page must have given him hand cramps. _“You dyed my hair purple?????????????????”_

Jungkook had just drawn a pouty face back. Two could play at the teasing game.

_“You don’t like it? :(“_

_“I look like a grape.”_

_“A cute grape,”_ Jungkook corrected, smiling as he wrote. Jungkook had read in an old entry of the journal that Namjoon thought his silvery-blonde hair suited him best, but Jungkook honestly thought the purple turned out to be more of a favor rather than revenge.

_“Also, Jin said someone named RJ would’ve liked it. Should I know who that is?”_

Namjoon seemed to end the teasing thread there.

_“Okay, well I guess since I broke your rules I deserved this. But uh… he’s just an old friend, you don’t need to worry about it.”_

* * *

Namjoon wakes up on Friday and when he sits up and processes the room he’s in, a rush of excitement fills him. It's short-lived, however, as he’s immediately met with a flood of guilt in its stead.

He had actually hoped that Jungkook would get to go on the date, especially since Namjoon had put in the effort to get it for him to be happy. However, a small part of Namjoon remains excited, as he had also hoped for the opportunity to do something strictly forbidden in trainee life. He’s written and heard so many lyrics about dating, love, and romance. It's only fair he gets to try it at least once.

He shrugs the guilt away. No worries, he’s sure he can secure Jungkook a second date too.

Jimin was already up and when he saw Jungkook awake and excited, had quickly left his car keys on his desk and left the room with a monotone “Have fun, don’t crash please.” He was out the door before Namjoon could even get in a good morning.

 _Hm_. He would have to remember to pick up hot chocolate for him later.

Namjoon got out of bed and figured he had a good amount of time to make Jungkook look date-ready and adorable. Not a very hard or long task, he finds. 

After a shower and 12-steps of skincare (he has it memorized it by now), Namjoon steps into some torn bleach-washed jeans and slides on a belt. He shuffles on a yellow cotton button-up, inspired by Harin and borrowed from Jimin since Jungkook didn’t seem to own any shirts brighter than dark grey. He half-tucks it and leans forward in the mirror as he tousles his hair up a bit with wax. After slapping on some bb cream, he slides on some fake circle glasses (cause who doesn’t look cute in circle glasses) and stands back to take in his work in the mirror.

He looks cute. Really cute.

Namjoon belatedly realizes that a good minute and a half of checking out Jungkook in the mirror is a little awkward, even if he technically is him for the day. He blushes and turns away, going to grab Jimin’s keys.

Namjoon agreed to meet Taehyung at the mall they busk at, since there was an ice skating rink on the far side that had just opened with the coming of autumn’s colder weather. Luck seems to both favor and hinder him today, as a lack of rain ensures the ice skating rink is open, but a rush of traffic gets him stuck for longer than he expected (also the fact that Namjoon doesn’t have a license and was honked at several times). He regrets not taking the train, and as soon as he crookedly parks he books it to their meeting spot.

He’s a couple of minutes late when he arrives next to the fountain, and he bends over and places his hands on his knees to catch his breath among the crowd, apologies ready on his tongue.

Both his breathe and the apologies fall away as he looks up, however, Taehyung’s smile making him forget about everything he’s ever been stressed about.

Taehyung sits nonchalantly on the edge of the fountain, legs crossed and leaning back on his hands. His outfit consists of a simple white t-shirt under a denim jacket and tucked into some black skinny jeans with a thin belt. His hair falls lightly around his face, the black waves shine in the soft sunlight seeping in through the clouds.

“Did you wait long?”

Taehyung brings his hand to his mouth and yawns. “Yea, I thought I was getting stood up.”

Namjoon opens his mouth to apologize but Taehyung raises a hand to stop him, standing up. “I’m just kidding, chill out,” he laughs, “I just got here too. Let’s go.”

A hand finds its way into Jungkook’s and all of a sudden Namjoon is being pulled through the crowd. 

It turns out Taehyung _fucking sucks_ at ice skating, which Namjoon finds hilarious but in no way a bad thing. It gives him multiple opportunities to catch him when he almost slips and stumbles backwards, smiling coyly as Taehyung blushes and rights his footing, lifting his back from Jungkook’s chest. _Corny rom-com tropes, check_.

They shuffle and stumble their way around the rink, avoiding families and other couples as Taehyung slowly gets the hang of the feeling. Namjoon holds his hand, pointedly ignoring the stares he notices coming from some of the parents he sees watching from the outside of the rink. The only stare that matters in the moment is Taehyung's, which he successfully holds as he guides him across the ice.

“Where did you even learn to skate?” 

Namjoon smiles and strides forward to skate backwards in front of Taehyung, facing him head-on as they both glide along. Taehyung rolls his eyes at his blatant show-off of skill.

“I skated a lot when I was younger. My parents used to want me to be a hockey star." Namjoon knows that isn't accurate to Jungkook, but figures a little information about his own self wouldn't hurt in the moment.

Taheyung scoffs. "I'd picture you more as the figure skater type."

Namjoon doesn't miss a beat. 

"Oh yea? Then let's dance."

"—Wait, wait!"

He grabs both of Taehyung's hands and starts to skate backwards with more force, pulling Taehyung with him in curves and circles. The boy tries to throw some panicked glares, but they quickly lose their anger as he stumbles, causing the grasp he has on Namjoon's arms to tighten. Namjoon laughs and soon Taehyung joins in, both stumbling their way and leaving curling scribbles etched into the ice beneath them. Namjoon revels in the romantic feeling of the moment, Jungkook and Taehyung's laughs mingling together as their breaths fog in the air between them.

Namjoon’s pretty good at this dating thing, he thinks.

After ice skating, they both drive to and meet at an art gallery closer to the city since _now we have to do something I'm good at_ , according to Taehyung. Taehyung drags him through the abstract painting section and then a pop-up photography exhibit, talking about the pieces and little tidbits of information he knows from online and the pamphlets they got in the lobby of the museum. Namjoon snaps photos of Taehyung and the art using both Jungkook’s phone and his camera, hoping to show Jungkook how well this is going. Taehyung’s eyes scrunch up when his smiles, almost as if his smile is too bright for his own pupils to handle. He shines through the photos as if he was born to.

By the time they leave the building, Jungkook’s polaroid camera is out of film and the sun is almost halfway out of sight. They walk a short distance to a street market, placed on a hill just outside the city’s epicenter and offering a full view of the city skyline. Namjoon stands at a railing and watches in awe as seagulls glide across fleeting rays of sun. Both the ocean and the city’s windowed skyscrapers reflect the sky, and the entire view is a beautiful palette of soft golds and oranges. 

Taehyung chuckles and Namjoon turns to him, broken from the trance.

“You’re so wide-eyed, it’s like you’ve never seen it before,” he hands him a bungeoppang he had bought from a side stand. Namjoon bites into it happily but startles at the temperature of the filling, almost burning his tongue on the red bean paste.

“Careful, it’s hot.”

Taehyung grabs the bungeoppang from his hand and reaches up to gently thumb some bean paste off his lip. 

“You’re always careful and know to wait,” he starts, but as he starts to chide Taehyung immediately realizes exactly what he’s doing and freezes. 

His wonder-filled eyes meet Namjoon's, and _oh,_ Namjoon knows good timing when he sees it.

“...what changed, Kookie?” the nickname falls from his mouth slowly, like honey.

Using what he knows is Jungkook’s _superpower_ , Namjoon widens his shining, Bambi eyes and holds Taehyung’s gaze, asking for exactly what both of them want.

Taehyung closes the distance.

It’s barely more than a peck, but Namjoon melts into the kiss. He feels Taehyung’s free hand slide around the small of his back and feels the warmth on his chest of the poor bungeoppang now sandwiched between them. Something in Namjoon’s chest flutters in this moment, as he realizes this is his first kiss.

Something _uglier_ jitters right after that, as he realizes this might be _Jungkook’s_ as well.

Even though he set up the date and everything leading to this, Namjoon had told himself he wouldn’t steal any important moments like this from Jungkook. He had gotten caught up in feeling, and now experiencing something so tender that _wasn’t meant for him_ suddenly fills his stomach with dread.

Taehyung seems to sense Namjoon’s hesitation and pulls away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that—”

Taehyung backs away and Namjoon panics, realizing he sent the wrong message.

“Wait, Taehyung, I—”

“You like someone else now, right?”

Namjoon blinks. That... wasn’t the reaction he was anticipating.

“No, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know why I hesitated, I just—”

Taehyung cuts off his stutters with a soft hand to his cheek. Namjoon gets a flash feeling of Jin and familiarity and is almost taken aback.

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m not mad.”

Namjoon just stares back into Taehyung’s eyes, unsure of what to say or how to fix this for Jungkook.

Taehyung smiles and lowers his hand, “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but… you used to like me back in high school, right?”

“I—uh—”

“—but now you like someone else. It’s okay, I can tell. Could tell, really.”

Namjoon has no idea what Taehyung is talking about. Did he read Jungkook wrong? 

“...what do you mean?”

Warm, kind Taehyung truly holds no bitterness in his tone as he continues. He looks off past the railing. The sun had quickly disappeared into the horizon, the night market lights popping up one by one as the skies’ oranges and golds shift into violets and indigos.

“Well... you’ve been different recently, and now you always have that far off look on your face, like your mind is somewhere else. Always seems like you’re just… missing someone… am I right?”

Namjoon meets his glance and can’t come up with an answer. He’s sure that his actions as Jungkook spoke of his desire to pursue Taehyung, but can’t speak for Jungkook himself.

Taehyung just takes the bungeoppang and places it back in Namjoon’s hand.

“Today was nice. Thanks for going on this um, date, with me, but you don’t have to bring this further than you're comfortable just for me. I like you just as much as a friend, you know.”

 _Fuck,_ Namjoon fucked this up.

“Taehyung, I’m sorry, I—”

Two firm hands find their way onto Namjoon’s shoulders.

“I said _it’s okay,_ Kookie, I mean it… Keep less secrets from the hyungs, remember?”

Namjoon looks down before Taehyung speaks up one last time.

“Just… lemme tell you one thing.”

Namjoon looks back up into Taehyung’s eyes and sees warmth, so much warmth, but behind all of it a small shadow of sadness, and he feels nothing but _guilt, guilt, guilt._

“... Tell them before it’s too late, Kookie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/averyseptember)  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/averyseptember)  
> [fic thread (pls like/rt/share if you enjoyed)](https://twitter.com/averyseptember/status/1339267264688754689?s=20)  
>   
> There's a reference here to another namkook fic by my amazingly talented moot Xiu called ["moments in which i loved you"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24214414/chapters/58332922) that is a beautiful read you should definitely check out.  
> Thank you to Morgan, Abi, and Kayla for being my beta readers :')  
> Thank you so much for the support and for reading, I hope you look forward to the rest ^^
> 
> No thoughts head empty:  
> \- I chose ice skating for Namjoon and Taehyung because of that very specific clip if you know you know  
> \- Namjoon’s blue hair for Dynamite made me combust but his purple hair will forever hold a place in my heart so its purple here  
> \- also speaking of that DYNAMITE !!! I actually cried watching it because it made me so happy and my simpy mind started to think all the millions of people in the world feeling the same happiness as me in that moment so yea happy tears came out. Boy with Luv was one of my fav title tracks and I'm so happy to see them releasing more happy and bright songs like it. I hope the boys know that they succeeded in their goal of making us smile in these dark times. I haven't felt that genuinely happy in so long.  
> \- also the "marry me" moment holy crap I can't stop thinking about it and don't want to stop


	4. Butterfly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3l2dgQ7b2Ycj9AWfuMgWw0?si=bBaU__iiScKMHckpN_ky-Q) I made especially for this fic.

_Will you stay by my side_

_Will you promise me_

_If I let go of your hand, you’ll fly away and break_

_I’m scared scared scared of that_

_\- “Butterfly” by BTS -_

Jungkook wishes he was better at remembering his dreams. He used to try to write them down in his journal when he woke up, but never seemed able to recall enough for the entries to be cohesive. He could never clearly remember the events that unfolded in them or the words that were spoken. When he awoke, the remnants of his dreams danced around with the little specks of light in his vision, fleeting pictures and lost emotions.

Naturally, he soon turned to drawing as his best way of recording them, and his journals, alongside his usual sketches, slowly filled with various iterations of whatever he thought his dreams could've included. His "dreamscapes," as Jimin liked to fondly refer to them when Jungkook showed him, were often of random objects, or places: the bud of a flower, the lock of a doorknob, a room with a lamp he vaguely remembers turning on. 

Despite the simplicity of the pictures, to Jungkook, his dreamscapes somehow always held the emotions of each dream, the lingering feeling he had as he awoke: the hope of a flower waiting to bloom, the lost feeling of being locked out, the loneliness of a single lightbulb in the dark. Not just what he remembers his dream had contained, but exactly how the dream had felt.

Though he knew now they weren't just dreams, the habit remained as he started to switch with Namjoon. His memories of each changeover were always a little hazy as he woke up back in his own body, and little sketches in his journal would jog his memory and bring back to his mind all the events he had recorded in Namjoon's own. 

As a consequence, the "dreamscapes" in his journal had slowly transitioned from his usual odd items and settings into little snippets of Namjoon’s life: the mess of Namjoon’s room, the curve of Yoongi's gummy smile, the sharp but rippling edges of Seoul's cityscape reflected in a puddle.

Similar to his dreamscapes, Jungkook found that his sketches of Namjoon's life still attempted to capture a feeling. Something lingering as he woke up, later embedded into the penciled lines of his sketches.

For some odd reason, he still couldn't quite put a name to the feeling.

* * *

**September 12th. Midnight.**

Jungkook slowly blinked awake, registering that something solid and ridged pushed against his cheek. He lifted his head a bit and turned to see exactly what it was, and found that he was just resting his face on a keyboard. He reached up and felt the bumps that the keys had now left imprinted across his left cheek. Or, Namjoon's left cheek, actually. 

He was sat at Namjoon's desk, in his mostly dark room, only lit by a lone desk lamp. The alarm clock to his right signaled that it was just after midnight. His laptop seemed to have also fallen asleep, and beside it sat a red mug, residue from coffee still pooled at the bottom.

 _Was he staying up to work?_ Jungkook ran his thumb across the laptop and found it open to a YouTube video. A dance tutorial to 2NE1’s “I Am the Best” was paused halfway through. Doesn't seem like work to Jungkook, unless this was for some evaluation performance Jungkook didn't know about yet.

Before Jungkook can get caught up learning the choreography to the chorus, a knock at his door makes him pause the video. The door creaks open and Jin’s head pops through the opening. 

“Oh, you're already awake,” he muses, opening the door fully to walk in. He’s oddly not in pajamas like Namjoon, but fully dressed in slacks and a large black coat.

He makes his way over to the desk and places a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Happy 18th Birthday, Joonie.”

Instead of smiling in response, Jungkook freezes. He remembers Namjoon's note from a couple of days before.

_"Something very important is gonna happen on the 12th, my birthday, and I really need to be there, but on the off-chance you end up there instead (which I really hope won't be the case), just play along. Bring my camera, and just think about what I would do and the notes I left you."_

_This_ is why Namjoon was trying to stay up. It's too late to try to switch back now, since they still haven't found an exact pattern in their switches. Sometimes they would switch multiple times in a day, sometimes not at all.

"Something wrong?" Jin's lips are turned downward in a small frown.

Jungkook startles and realizes he must've been spacing out. "Ah—No hyung, thank you," He quickly flashes a smile, and places a hand over Jin's own on his shoulder. _Play along_ , Namjoon had written. Jungkook already had a lot of practice at that.

Jin's smile returns. "Okay, are you ready?"

“Yea,” Jungkook lies, and gets up from the chair, “just give me a second.”

After a quick splash of water to his face and the sliding on of a fluffy sweater, Jungkook grabs Namjoon's bag and meets Jin in the living room. To Jungkook’s surprise, Jin now has a guitar strapped to his back. It’s old and some of it’s polish is faded in smudges, but it seems well taken care of nonetheless. Jungkook didn’t know Jin played.

Jungkook’s eyes come back up to Jin’s and surprisingly, the warmth in them a couple of minutes ago is nowhere to be found. His eyes are nervous and cold, his hands seeming equally so as they clutch at a brown paper bag. Jungkook follows Jin and they exit the dorm and the building, the breeze flushing around them as they push the door shut, keypad beeping softly. 

“Okay,” Jin sighs, breath fogging as it leaves his mouth, “let’s go.”

Seonam-gu's streets are eerily quiet near midnight, as if the brick of the old buildings somehow muted the sounds from the surrounding sleepless nightlife districts. There's the sound of drips into rain gutters nearby, but other than that and the sounds of distant traffic, Jin and Namjoon's footsteps ring against the damp walls around them alone. The rain isn't falling at the moment, but rather hanging suspended in the air, mist glowing around the scattered street lamps as they walk.

Jungkook doesn't know where they're going but as he follows, a lingering sense of dread pools at the bottom of his stomach. Jin is usually a source of warmth and comfort in the presence of Namjoon, but this Jin is unchartered territory. His strides are long and hold purpose, but his hands twitch and shake as one clutches his bag and the other adjusts the guitar on his back.

A couple blocks down, and the streetlamps become even scarcer, the buildings even older. Jungkook had never been in this area of the district, even with all the errands he ran as Namjoon. He’s busy looking around and almost misses when Jin turns into an alleyway. Jungkook hesitates, wary of the darkness, but quickly shuffles after Jin. A couple meters into the darkness he turns again, and they both meet a chainlink fence with a black windscreen tarp over it, blocking the view to the other side. Jin reaches and pulls at the right edge, where some of the windscreen has torn away, and to Jungkook’s surprise the fence easily peels back to leave a narrow opening. Jin gestures for him to go in, and Jungkook blinks, looking back and forth between Jin and the darkness of the entrance beyond the fence. Jungkook knows he can trust Jin, but even his trust has limits. Despite this, he remembers Namjoon’s words and dips down his head a bit as he slides in.

The scene that meets him leaves him breathless. 

They must be in a forgotten clearing between the old buildings, as there are brick walls framing all sides of the nook. High above them hangs a highway bridge, and the brightness from its streetlights travels all the way down to them, mixing with the moonlight to bathe the whole garden.

_The garden._

Vines crawl up the brick and engulf most of the walls, both framing and growing against the grid lines of its surfaces. The ground consists of old brick tile, but much of it has broken and chipped away to reveal patches of dirt underneath. From these patches grow various succulents, shrubbery, and what seem to be the garden’s highlight: Small, delicate flowers stare back at Jungkook, a breed he doesn't think he's ever seen before. Their blooms resemble delicate pieces of folded origami, a mesmerizing mix of soft blues, whites, and lavenders, dancing across the petals like the aurora in the night sky. Amidst the flowers, in the center of the garden lies an old quilt, it's various patches and squares worn from time.

"It's been a while since you've been back here, huh?" Jin prompts, coming up behind Jungkook.

Jungkook feels like he walked into a scene from his journal, one of his dreamscapes splayed out in front of him, so ethereal he's afraid that one step will make it all crumble into nothingness. He struggles to find the words to answer, letting out a detached hum in response. The garden isn't completely flawless and clearly struggles to grow amongst the dirt and grime of the city, but something about that only makes it more beautiful, like an oasis among the rolling dunes of a desert.

"I've tried my best to care for the smeraldos," Jin muses as he walks forward, stepping on certain tiles in order to avoid damaging any of the blossoms, "they're not really supposed to thrive in this type of weather but I guess enough Naver searches can make anything possible."

Jungkook follows Jin's footsteps until they reach the quilt, careful not to let any of Namjoon's clumsiness seep through in the moment. Jin places down his guitar and bag softly as he sits down, patting the space next to him. Jungkook lowers to join him, sitting cross-legged on the soft surface, unsure what comes next.

They just sit for a while, breathing in the misty air as Jin sits back on his hands and looks up at the sky. The stars aren't visible from the city, but the moon shines between the buildings from her seat among the clouds.

Jin eventually breaks the silence.

"I think... I'm ready." His voice is small, barely above a whisper.

Jungkook stares at him. His eyes hold the same nervousness they did earlier, but now there’s more sorrow that swims around in them than anything else. Jungkook hesitates and tries not to sound completely clueless, afraid of coming off as insensitive.

He swallows. "Ready for..?"

At the question, Jin gets up from his place on the quilt and walks over to one of the walls, grasping at it. 

"This," he pulls at a brick that sticks out slightly between the vines, and it comes loose, revealing a small hole in the wall. Jin reaches in and pulls out a small worn envelope before slotting the brick back into place. He steps back to the blanket and holds out the envelope to Jungkook. "RJ said he wanted you to read it to me, right? I think... I'm ready."

 _RJ_. That's who this was about. Jungkook had heard the name brought up a few times in side comments from Jin and hushed conversations between Hobi and Yoongi. Namjoon had told him not to worry about knowing who it was, but maybe he should've pushed the question a little more. 

Wanting to get through this obviously heavy situation with as little damage as possible, he takes the letter from Jin and takes a deep breath. He opens the envelope as Jin sits down, and from it unfolds a small sheet of paper, tiny neat handwriting decorating both sides. To his surprise, before he starts, Jin reaches out and takes one of his hands. Jungkook squeezes it on instinct. Jin squeezes and doesn't let go.

 _Think about what I would do._ Jungkook thinks of Namjoon as he clears his throat and begins to read.

 _“To Jin,”_ the paper crinkles in his hand, _“I’m giving this letter to Namjoon, asking him to read it to you once the time is right. After I’m gone.”_

Jungkook glances at Jin. His eyes are glued to the ground, but the waver in them matches the growing trembles Jungkook can feel in his hand. 

He turns back to the paper. _“I'm sure by now you've been told this but I've decided to quietly leave Bighit Entertainment and our team. I know that for a long time I caused the team a lot of trouble, and I'll forever be really sorry for that. I wish I was able to make it up to you guys.”_

_“I know you always used to say that you can handle all of this with no struggles, but I know the things I've done have put a strain on you, on top of everything else you've already been dealing with in your role as leader. Please don't blame yourself for any of these problems, or for me leaving. This is my decision and I promise it's not being made because of anything you did.”_

_“I know you don't want me to leave, but after a lot of thought, I know that this is what is best for the team, and specifically for the two of us. I've always been selfish and made decisions that hurt you.”_

Jin’s hand is firm around Namjoon’s but somehow tightens even more at the word _selfish._

_“And this may be a horrible, horrible, thing for me to do, but I'm going to let myself be selfish one last time in this letter.”_

Jin lets out a shaky breath. Jungkook looks to him and Jin looks up for the first time since he started reading. The moonlight softly falls in between them, and the shadows frame Jin’s face into an artful portrait of soft lights and darks. 

_“First off, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for putting this weight on you, and I'm sorry for all the things I've said to hurt you when we fought, when all you wanted was to keep me safe. I wish I could take back all the words, but now the only thing I can do is take away my chance to hurt you anymore.”_

This art, however, isn't like Jin’s usual form, lying in his defined handsome features and broad shoulders. In the moonlight of the garden, the shadows reveal lines of his face that Jungkook hadn't seen before. Lines across Jin’s face that seem to only exist in this moment, revealing flaws and weaknesses not visible against Jin’s everyday sunlight.

_“Secondly, please don't miss me. I'm sorry I have to go, but don’t be sad that I'm gone. Just keep working towards your dreams, keep working towards debut and success. I know it's been hard and it's going to be hard for a long time. Despite all of the pain, I promise you’ll get there one day and with no regrets. When you do, I'll be part of the crowd smiling up at you. Even though I'm leaving, I know that one day I'll see all of you on stage and I'll be proud that I knew a brilliant team like you guys.”_

Jungkook feels his hand squeeze again and looks up to find something else among the lines of Jin’s sorrow. Shining tears trace the lines of moonlight and fall to his lap, sparkling in place of the stars invisible above the city skyline. Jungkook’s breath catches and he hesitates, but Jin shakes his head and squeezes once more, prompting him to keep reading.

As Jungkook feels the next words fall from his mouth, he feels wrong knowing that they don't belong to him, that they were meant to come from someone else’s heart.

_“And lastly, Kim Seokjin… I love you. I love you so, so much. I know you loved me too, and I'm so grateful to have ever held a piece of your heart. You deserve not just my love but all the love in the world, and I know soon everyone will see that too.”_

_“I'm sorry I have to end this letter. I'm sorry I have to go now. I'm sorry that I've caused you so much pain and stress, but there's one thing I can never be sorry for.”_

_“I can never be sorry for loving you, Kim Seokjin. Goodbye.”_

The letter rustles in the breeze as Jungkook comes to the end of the writing, the only noise left in the silence that falls between the two. Jungkook folds the paper and places it neatly on top of the blanket, one hand still occupied with Jin’s. For a moment he does nothing but sit and focus on drawing small patterns with his thumb into the back of Jin’s hand, Jin unmoving with his head hung downward. He isn’t sure how to feel, knowing this situation was meant for Namjoon, who would know what to do here, know what to say. He’s just Jungkook, young, immature, Jungkook always guided by his hyungs, not eloquent with his words like the leader he knows Namjoon is.

Jin sniffles, and Jungkook is pulled back from his thoughts. On instinct he lets go of Jin’s hand, only to reach forward to wrap his arms around and pull Jin to his chest.

The tears flow naturally after that, staining Namjoon’s sweater.

Jin attempts to cry silently, but a broken sob escapes from his mouth. Jungkook runs his hand up and down his back, trying to coax him into letting out everything he’s held in. His voice comes out in tatters.

“I—I fucked up—I fucked everything up so much. It's all my fault.”

Jungkook coos and holds Jin tighter. “Shhh, no, it's not your fault.”

“No, you _dont understand,”_ the words come out through gritted teeth, “he says it's not because of anything I did, but it's because of _everything_ I did. I made all the decisions for us and pushed him away. I'm the reason everything happened. I said so many _horrible_ things.”

His sobs grow louder and he shakes into Jungkook’s hold. “I'm so sorry, Joon-ah. I've never been what you guys needed me to be. I’ve been nothing but a burden to everyone from the start. If I had just done things differently, not been stupid and prideful then we would be further. We'd have debuted already… you guys wouldn't be worried about me all the time…”

Jungkook barely hears Jin’s voice in between his breaths.

“RJ would… still be alive.”

Jungkook stills, Jin still tight in his arms. He hadn't realized the true weight of the situation until now. Panic grows in his stomach as he realizes how utterly ill-equipped he is to handle this situation. How little help he could be to Jin.

They both take deep breaths as they sit among the flowers. Jungkook smells the blooms of the smeraldos and relaxes his shoulders to curl more around his crying hyung. He’s scared and feels out of place, but he reminds himself that this isn't about him. This is a time where no matter who he is (Namjoon or not), he has to be here for his hyung.

He thinks of the time Jimin had choked his piece at a piano recital. He had held Jimin tight the whole night, nibbling his ear and curling his fingers into his hair.

He thinks of the year back in high school where Taehyung had gotten fired from his retail job and didn't tell his parents how short he was on money. Jungkook had begged his boss to take in another employee, and although she had been skeptical, Taehyung had been given “Barista of the Month” shortly after Jungkook’s training.

He thinks of Namjoon. Of the grocery list of tasks he had grown accustomed to doing in his place. Of Yoongi’s sighs that secretly held admiration. Of Hobi’s giggles and playful shoves.

He thinks of Jin, sweet, caring Jin, now shaking in his arms, coming to Namjoon in his most vulnerable state. Thinks of the pages and pages of info Namjoon had left, describing how he cared for him. for them.

Jungkook could be like Namjoon, he thinks. He could see that they both made pretty good maknaes.

With that thought, he pulls Jin up and more or less into his lap, bringing his hand up to wrap around Jin’s nape, massaging him there. Jin quiets a little at that, but still trembles, sighing into Namjoon's neck.

“Jin-hyung,” Jungkook starts, “you never need to apologize for being a burden. We all carry each other's burdens. That's why we're a team, right?” 

“You don't need to say comforting words for me, Joon,” Jin whispers in between shaky breaths, “You always say what I need to hear, but not what I deserve to.”

Jungkook flows with his words, not missing a beat. “Shhh, that's what you're not getting. You deserve so much, Jin. You're such a good hyung, always being the one to stop and check on me. You care for me so much, in ways you think I don't notice.”

Jungkook had noticed from his very first day as Namjoon how much the elder cared for him, in little gestures and words. The silent conversations Jin seemed to hold with Namjoon through his glances, through his touch. Jin’s hand on his cheek was always one of the feelings that lingered in his mind after he woke up back in his own body, the warmth of Jin’s palm sitting light on his face but still reaching deep into his chest. 

“You think I don't notice the times you peek by my studio to check on me through the door, all the times you make sure the company doesn't order only seafood for our dinner?” Jungkook scoffed, thinking of Namjoon’s exact directions for him to avoid eating seafood to prevent suspicion. “I know it's hard to let yourself accept it, but you deserve that kind of thoughtful care as much as the rest of us. I'm here for you, and so are Hobi-hyung and Yoongi-hyung. We've been together so long, and there's no way we'd be anywhere without you.”

Jungkook knows how much Namjoon loves Jin, how much he loves Bangtan and the little family they’ve found within each other, but he leaves those words for Namjoon to say himself. For now, he just holds Jin tighter, soothing circles into the small of his back as his cries overcome him.

They sit like that for what could have been minutes, or what could have been hours, Jungkook doesn't know. All he knows is that he's here for his hyung as his sorrow comes in waves. The tide pushes and pulls but eventually recedes, and Jungkook almost falls asleep into the crook of Jin’s neck.

He's awoken by a rustling of leaves and Jin moving a little out of his grasp. Jin’s voice is still broken, but holds surprise in it as he whispers, “Joon-ah, look.”

Jungkook sits back and rubs his eyes, and as he looks up again into the moonlit garden, the sight that meets him pulls at a memory deep in his soul. Like from a dream.

As they sat in the middle of the garden, a flock of sapphire butterflies had fluttered into the space around them, placing themselves on the smeraldos and vines along the walls. Jungkook’s breath halts in a gasp, and he looks back to see Jin smiling at his surprise.

Jin’s eyes are tear-strained and reddened, but he looks around the garden with a restored sense of wonder, of warmth. 

“This is crazy, I've never seen so many here at once. Do… do you think it's RJ?” 

Jungkook blinks at the question, brain grasping for a comforting answer, but Jin smiles at his confusion.

“I'm just kidding Joon, but it must be crazy for so many to come at once, in early fall as well. I've only seen a few here before and strictly in the summer." Jin reaches his arm out and up towards the butterflies fluttering around them.

"They're… magical.”

One pauses its flight path near his hand and Jin takes in a sharp breath, entranced by the way it shines brilliantly in the soft light.

  
After some time, “Have you heard of the butterfly effect?” Jin muses as Jungkook watches a butterfly land on a blossom, the stem swaying side to side from the new weight. Jungkook hums in affirmation.

“I know it's kinda overused in movies and things, but I think about it a lot.” He shuffles back on the blanket and puts a little more space between them, but still presses a leg against Jungkook’s. “One little butterfly in the past could set off a series of completely universe-changing events. Like in all those time-traveling movies where one butterfly dying in the past causes super-volcanoes to explode in the present and all that.” He smiles at his joke, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

He lowers his arm as the butterfly flutters away. “I think sometimes that I could've done something like that. Not the apocalypse type deal, but…” he hesitates and starts to play with a loose thread on his pants. “If I had done one small thing differently back then… if I had just opened up when he asked me to, he would still be here.”

A pain stabs at Jungkook’s stomach and he reaches out, finding words on his tongue yet again to assure Jin. Jin takes his outreached hand and squeezes it, his not-quite-smile wringing at Jungkook's heart. 

“...But I've also read stories where butterflies carry messages sent from loved ones,” his hold around Namjoon’s hand tightens. “I know it's all symbolism and hidden meanings and metaphors jumbled together, but at the end of the day, I know what happened to RJ wasn't my fault. He wouldn't want me to blame myself, either.” 

Jungkook sighs at Jin’s affirmation and offers him an eye-smile back. Jungkook wonders if Namjoon’s eyes reveal as much as Taehyung says his own do.

They fall into silence after that, both admiring the sight of the butterflies dancing around the garden’s misty air. For a while it seems like they're away from the bustling city and suffocating atmosphere of Seoul, that Jungkook knows Namjoon and the Bangtan boys have grown tired of. The air seems fresher, cleared and lifted by the beating of the butterflies’ wings. The smeraldos glisten along with blue patterns of the flutterings, and it almost seems like time freezes in that moment.

Jungkook almost jumps when Jin clears his throat. Time continues and some of the butterflies flutter from their spots at the sudden sound.

“I—I’m not sure how to do this… I should probably say something, right? What we originally came here for.”

Jungkook nods and Jin turns back to pick up the paper bag Jungkook had almost forgotten was there.

Jim places the bag in his lap and turns his head down to the ground, seemingly embarrassed but still solemn.

“Sometimes… when I'm here, I… talk like I'm talking to RJ. I know it seems crazy and stupid,” he lets out a wet laugh, “but it feels peaceful. It seems like he's always here, in this place. Like he never really left our garden.”

Jungkook nods again reassuring, “No no, it's not stupid, go ahead.”

Jin takes a deep breath with his eyes closed.

“Well… RJ, I… finally read your letter. I'm sorry it took me so long. Um… Namjoon and I brought your favorite hotteok today, and I know that it's a thing for families to leave food at the grave for their relatives and stuff, but I know you hated wasting food, so me and Namjoon are just gonna eat it.” 

He opens the bag and hands a hotteok to Jungkook. They both take a bite. The cinnamon sugar filling is no longer warm, but its sweetness still reminds Jungkook of memories from happier nights. He hopes it does the same for Jin.

“It's been a year since you left… and I miss you every day.” Jin’s voice begins to waver again, but after a breath, he continues with more conviction than he's held all night. 

“You said not to miss you, and I can't make any promises, but I will try my best to do that. I won't miss you, but instead... I'll just love you. Love you like I should have before. I'll take all the love you gave me and spread it with the world, just like you always wanted to.”

Jin’s tears return, but he wipes them aside with the back of his hand.

“I'll do that for you, RJ. But like you wanted, I'll also do it for myself.”

He sniffles and his head drops again. Jungkook shuffles towards him on the blanket, prepared again to pull Jin safe from the storm in his chest, but when Jin’s head raises and their eyes meet, Jungkook sees nothing but a genuine smile, Jin’s warmth returned but with something new in the depth of his irises. Something no longer broken, but whole.

They finish the hotteok and Jin tells a story of how RJ would always haggle with the lady who made these for a discount. She had chased them away and banned them from the store, so Jin and RJ had worked through several online recipes mixed with trial-and-error experimentation until they got the same taste down to a science. The lady had given Jin the recipe recently, and Jin found out they had it almost down to the exact measurement.

Once they finish Jungkook pulls out Namjoon’s camera and takes a photo of the two together, laughing as a butterfly lands on Jin and makes him scrunch up his face for the photo. Jin pouts at the photo but then turns and picks up his guitar, explaining how he wanted to play a song he says RJ and him used to sing together. His hands are still too shaky from crying to play, so Jungkook reaches out for the instrument and asks Jin for the chords. Jin gives him wide eyes as he plays the song for Jin to sing along to, and Jungkook just smiles. If Jungkook could suddenly freestyle rap, then Namjoon could suddenly play a simple chord progression too. No big deal.

They get back to the dorm around 3 AM, after leaving behind the butterflies in RJ’s garden, as well as the photo and RJ’s letter tucked into its space behind the brick in the wall. Jin hesitates going into his room and Jungkook just laughs and grabs his hand, pulling them both to wash their faces and climb into Namjoon’s bed. Jungkook holds Jin as sleep overtakes the two of them, and Jin wiggles and shuffles around a lot in his arms as he tries to fall asleep. Similar to Jimin, Jungkook muses to himself.

When their breaths have slowed and Jungkook thinks Jin is asleep, he opens his eyes to find Jin’s looking right back at him.

He pulls back in surprise but Jin shushes him, reaching up a hand to cup his cheek. 

Jin’s thumb feels cool as it brushes above his cheekbone.

“Namjoon…” his voice is barely above a whisper as he holds his gaze.

“ _...aren't you dreaming?_ ”

Jungkook wakes up with a start, sitting up in his bed in a flash, breaths fast and urgent. His head whips around as he registers where he is.

He's in his room. The air is cool, almost damp with the chill hanging in the air. His clock on his desk tells him it's late afternoon, and he finds his window propped open, raindrops pelting against it. The sound of the rainfall travels through the window, a chorus of blending quiet roars in the distance. Jimin isn't in his bed. Other than the rumble of the storm, the room is empty.

Jungkook can't fully remember where he just woke up from. It seems the same as every other time, Jungkook clueless and left with a mysterious feeling at the pit of his chest.

But... it's not the same this time. Jungkook brings his hand up to his cheek in confusion, feeling tears running down the side of his face. He's crying. 

The realization hits him like a punch to his solar plexus. Jungkook draws in a breath.

It's _love._ The feeling in his chest when he wakes up from his time as Namjoon. It's love. Love drawn from every unadulterated thought and message penciled into Namjoon’s journal. Love drawn from the Hobi’s happy-go-lucky freestyle moves during Bangtan’s laugh-filled dance rehearsals. Love drawn from the smile on Yoongi’s face when Jungkook comes up with the word for a lyric he couldn't think of. Love drawn from the feeling of Jin’s hand on his face, from the sorrow laced in his starlight tears, from the soothing tone of his voice as he sings to the smeraldo flowers. Love drawn straight from Namjoon’s chest into Jungkook’s own. He feels cold and warm, scared and determined, empty and full.

He lies back in his bed and sighs, overwhelmed. He blinks away his tears before fully closing his eyes. As he listens to the rain against the window, he wonders if Namjoon ever felt like this when he woke up from Jungkook’s body too.

…

…

...

He never does get the chance to ask, though.

Because after that night, Jungkook never wakes up as Namjoon again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/averyseptember)  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/averyseptember)  
> [fic thread (pls like/rt/share if you enjoyed)](https://twitter.com/averyseptember/status/1339267264688754689?s=20)  
>   
> Hi again !! Avery here ^^ Wow this chapter honestly had me stumped for days on end, but suddenly in a rush I finished both this chapter and the next in a span of 28 hours LOL. I really wanted to get the emotions and feelings of this chapter right, so I hope you enjoyed. Thank you for reading and I'll see you next chapter!
> 
> Thank you to Morgan and Kayla for being my lovely beta readers <3
> 
> Tho(ugh)ts:  
> \- ok look, when I came up with the idea of RJ, I did come across the problem where my friend was like "I can only picture the alpaca" but uh please just pretend it's NOT the alpaca lol it is in fact a real boy who will have more background soon lol (I think in my mind it's like, Jin would Name RJ the alpaca after this RJ in this universe or something)  
> \- I hope you guys appreciate the song lyrics/playlist/moodboards, I lowkey put a lot of effort into those, like the amount of research I did into song lyrics and matching them with their respective chapters and storylines is kinda crazy when you look at my outline  
> \- also DYNAMITE NUMBER ONE ON BILLBOARD AND ON JUNGKOOK'S BDAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO JUNGKOOK AND IM SO HAPPY FOR OUR BOYS I HOPE THIS IS THE FIRST #1 OF MANY TO COME  
> \- also ITS SEPTEMBER NAMKOOK MONTH YAY namkooker powers are the strongest in this month so hopefully that means I can publish the whole fic before the month ends hehe


	5. Interlude: The Truth Untold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning for this chapter: death, injury, internalized homophobia
> 
> Here's a [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3l2dgQ7b2Ycj9AWfuMgWw0?si=bBaU__iiScKMHckpN_ky-Q) I made especially for this fic.

_Bloomed in a garden of loneliness_

_A flower that resembles you_

_I wanted to give it to you_

_After I take off this foolish mask_

_\- “The Truth Untold” by BTS -_

Whenever Namjoon hears “Good Day” by IU, he thinks of Song Ryujeong.

He thinks of the times he heard the song on piano, bouncing through the hallways from the practice rooms of the BigHit building's second floor.

He thinks of all the evenings he heard the tune floating through their dorm, hums filling the kitchen along with the smell of sweet bukkumi.

He thinks of all the nights where the short skinny boy had somehow dragged four hyungs twice his size to a noraebang, only to make them sing and dance with him as he nailed IU’s three-octave high note.

 _All in good practice_ , he would justify with a wink. Despite the annoyance of his hyungs, it really was good practice for someone with a voice as powerful, charm as sweet as his.

Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Kim Namjoon, Jung Hoseok, and Song Ryujeong were the five trainees arranged by BigHit Entertainment to debut as the company’s new boy group, “Bangtan Sonyeondan.” The five together forming a team of varying styles and strengths, the company was pushing them at full speed in prep for debut.

Song Ryujeong, known as RJ to those he deemed close, was... a number of things. _Main Vocalist,_ if you asked a member of BigHit staff. _Bangtan’s_ _Vitamin Maknae,_ if you asked Namjoon. _Little shit,_ if you asked Yoongi on the wrong day.

If you asked Jin? The answer was complicated. 

The answer could be Jin’s partner-in-crime, the two sneaking out of the dorm at night together to go catch their favorite hotteok store minutes before closing. The answer could be Jin’s annoying-little-leech, touchy to most but almost magnetically drawn to Jin, clingy being a gross understatement. The answer could be Jin’s sunshine, RJ holding a smile rival to the brightness of Hoseok’s and hair that, depending on the color _that month_ , rivaled the vibrance of any sunny blue sky. The answer could be Jin’s muse, his bane, his strength.

...If you asked Jin? The answer was complicated. 

So no one asked. Not even Jin.

Maybe the real reason no one asked was because they didn’t need to. Namjoon knew he wasn’t the most perceptive of these things, but even he was skeptical of what Jin and Ryujeong thought was them being “subtle.” Watching Jin and Ryujeong fall for each other during their first year together as trainees inspired multiple romantic verses in the demos Yoongi and him wrote. Lyrics of stolen glances, longing stares, and lingering touches. Ryujeong was not one to fall lightly, and from the moment he and Jin confirmed their feelings for each other, he fell like raindrops from the sky: Fast, almost torrential, and with a roar of passion.

Only the members were let in on the secret of their relationship, but in between their slightly-too-touchy hands, mysterious nightly sneak-outs, and extended hours spent in the _soundproof_ vocal practice rooms, Namjoon was sure the staff was bound to figure out what was going on between the group's two vocalists. Maybe the staff just knew and didn’t care, Namjoon used to think.

That thought was never confirmed or denied, however, as one day Jin was called up to the main producer’s office, along with many other officials of the company.

After that meeting, it was announced to the group that Jin was to be the appointed leader of the team. This was not a surprise and should have been a pleasant one, but for some reason, after this news the entire mood of the Bangtan team changed.

For the next couple weeks, it became common for Jin to disappear behind the locked door of his room in the dorm every night. At the time nobody knew the real reason, but throughout the next couple weeks, there were multiple instances of RJ sitting on his bed in Namjoon's and his room, crying into his pillow. His tears wouldn't cease until Namjoon spent at least an hour holding his hand and brushing his fingers through his hair (like he so often saw Jin doing). That was telling enough of what had happened.

Slowly, the tune of IU’s Good Day became scarce in Namjoon’s life. He would occasionally hear the song on the radio and turn it up, wondering where RJ was at that moment. It was rare to see him outside of rehearsal anymore, and even as his roommate RJ slowly became distant from Namjoon and the rest of the team. 

This came with its own share of problems. RJ would pick fights with Hobi and Yoongi over small things in the dorm, and would ignore Namjoon's lectures as he lied in bed, facing the wall. His performance evaluation scores from their trainers slowly declined, not because of his skill but because of his lack of motivation. By then the only times you could ever find Jin really speaking to RJ was with stern words on his tongue about RJ’s work ethic, RJ’s face stone and barren of its usual color, before it cracked and Namjoon buried deeper into his sheets in order to tune out the yelling that ensued.

One night months later, Namjoon was lying in his bed, not-quite-yet asleep as he heard sudden rustling. He caught a glimpse of pink hair just as RJ slipped out the door of their bedroom. Driven out of curiosity and concern, Namjoon had slipped into a coat and attempted to go after RJ to stop him, preventing him from getting in any more trouble with the company for sneaking out. He chased after his only dongsaeng, but could barely catch the direction RJ was going after he turned every street corner. The chill of the night pierced through his coat, only accompanied by pajamas and slippers. 

After what felt like half an hour of wild-goose-chasing RJ through the maze of Seonam-gu’s streets, he found the boy turning into the crook of a dark alleyway. He reached into the darkness after him, only to fall into what he could only describe as a scene from a fantasy. RJ sat alone amongst the flowers, moonlight reflected in his wide-eyes, surprised to find that someone had followed him to his sanctuary.

The two stared at each other, Namjoon standing at the edge between the real world and that of the smeraldos. RJ’s eyes began to water, and before Namjoon could react, his face broke and the tears flowed down his soft pale cheeks. Namjoon rushed over to the quilt and knelt next to the boy, pulling him into his chest as sobs overtook him. The moon watched over her children as they cried there, safe from all the terrors of the night in RJ’s garden.

RJ had said that it was the first time he hadn't been alone in the garden since Jin stopped talking to him. He told stories of how they found and made the abandoned nook their own little world, Jin playing guitar as RJ tended the flower seeds his mother had sent him from abroad. The smeraldos had only bloomed in recent times, and RJ wondered if Jin would ever come to see them. 

Namjoon assured him that Jin would, but his promise felt hollow as the words fell from his mouth. Nobody knew what was going in the head of Jin at those times, not even Namjoon.

A week or so later, RJ had come to Namjoon with a favor to ask. Along with the winds and chill of autumn and September, RJ had come into their room and held out an envelope to Namjoon.

A week or so after that, Namjoon no longer knew if he had the heart to deliver the message.

* * *

Despite being the furthest of the group from being legally allowed, Ryujeong always had the habit of drinking too much. Jin would always remember that.

 _The secret ingredient is crime!_ The younger would quip to Hobi as he twisted the soju bottle around in his arms, opening it with some fancy bartender trick he had seen online. The boy drank his alcohol like a bartender but held it like a clubgoer, unfortunately.

 _The secret ingredient is you._ Ryujeong would exhale those breathy teasing words into the center of Jin’s sternum, sighing himself to sleep after four bottles too many. Jin would chuckle at the boy’s drunken flirting, curling his fingers in his hair as they both drifted off.

He remembers those words from once upon a time, but this time, he stares across the dorm living room at RJ. He’s more or less in Namjoon’s lap, the taller boy attempting to awkwardly hold RJ in place with his hands on his waist, preventing him from leaning too far in one direction and toppling off the couch. Hobi sits next to Jin and giggles at the sight, putting down his soju bottle to join the unholy number of empty ones littered between all of them on the coffee table. The shiny green glass and “Good Day” brand labels stretched for what felt like kilometers of distance.

Jin had bought the soju bottles, just like how he had forced the distance between him and RJ.

“Happhy Seventeenthh Birfdayyy Namjooooon~” the boy raises his current bottle and goes to take a drink. Yoongi grabs it from him and switches it out for another (which he had filled with water). RJ smiles and drinks it regardless, Yoongi patting his head softly.

Namjoon had insisted on not making his birthday a huge deal, but what kind of leader would Jin be if he didn't buy packs of soju for his members’ celebrations? Especially since he was the only one not afraid to ask someone to buy alcohol for them.

The night had dissolved into drunken laughter and little party games soon after midnight, a small store-bought cake now smudged on the floor (you could never trust the Bangtan boys with a cake, it seemed). It had been one of the first nights in a while where the five had spent pleasant, uninterrupted time together. 

Jin knew he was to blame for that fact.

Jin wanted nothing more than for his team to be happy. Nothing more than to lead them to success, to see the hard work of all his members come to fruition with a prosperous debut. He knew that getting there would take a lot of pain, a lot of struggling first. He swore to his dongsaengs that he could lead them there with his strength alone, but sometimes he just wished it didn’t feel like he was the one causing most of the pain.

When the company had chosen him as leader, they had not-so-subtly hinted at the fact that they were suspicious of him and RJ. _Unorthodox relationships_ came up somewhere in their lecture, and Jin got the message loud and clear. There was no place for such a thing in a boy group, not in the current world they lived in. 

Even before then, Jin had always struggled with the idea of having feelings for RJ, afraid of what his parents might think if they knew how he was spending his time away as a trainee. Their handsome son, who they supported in anything, whether it be acting or singing. Would they still support him if they knew? Would that make it wrong?

...Could the feeling of _home_ Jin felt in his chest be wrong?

RJ had been there through all the confusion, all the questions. His soft hands never pushed Jin too far, never forced them to put a label on whatever they were. His soft lips brushed the shell of Jin’s ear, whispering sweet comforting nothings as his hyung cried himself to sleep.

Jin was a coward, and he knew it. He only doubled down on this fact when he chose to do what he did.

Ryujeong’s solution to the company would be similar to what most of his solutions to overwhelming authority were: that they just lie, continue in secret. However, Jin not only knew the risk of that was too high, but he saw that behind his words it wasn’t at all what RJ wanted. Before the staff had even initially shown suspicion, it almost seemed as if RJ _wanted_ them to find out, _daring_ them to say anything. He would grab Jin’s hand in certain heated moments, say things that were a little out of place during rehearsals. RJ was brave and courageous, hated hiding behind masks for other people’s approval and pleasure. He was everything Jin couldn’t be.

Jin saw how much keeping them a secret hurt RJ, kept him locked in. With this knowledge, he made a horrible, horrible decision. He decided to make sure there was no secret to keep. He put on the mask and played the part, so RJ wouldn’t have to.

It was painful for both of them, but Jin thinks the most painful part was how RJ didn't always try to fight back. For the most part, he began to keep his distance from Jin obediently, but in turn kept his distance away from everyone else as well. Jin had always asked his other members to check up on RJ, but was often met with Yoongi’s disappointed glare. _You should ask him yourself, hyung_ were always his words, and when met with Jin’s _You know I can’t do that_ , Yoongi’s scowl only grew deeper.

What Jin didn’t expect was for RJ to start missing out on rehearsals. He didn’t think RJ would half-ass his evaluation performances or skip his allotted practice room time. When Jin, as the group’s leader, was sent to talk him out of it, the arguments would always escalate, and the words that they hurled at each other only further fueled the fire burning the bridge that once connected them. A bridge once so strong and wide, almost like they were never separate isles in the first place, now ablaze and falling in pieces into the dark ocean.

Later into the night of Namjoon’s 17th birthday celebration, after the cake and most of the broken soju bottles had been cleaned up, the fire sparked once again from the shards.

The living room was now dark, most of the lights in the apartment off. RJ sat on the couch, nursing a final soju bottle. Jin roamed around the living room, pushing furniture back into its place and gathering missed debris from their various activities, figuring that the other three members had already gone to bed.

The silence that hung between them was tense, as it always had been since things changed.

“Hyung.” RJ’s voice was roughened slightly from the alcohol, but still light and soft.

Jin pauses in sweeping up some missed shards of glass, and looks to him.

The eyes that meet him are ones he wishes he didn’t know so well. Eyes he wished he wasn’t so now used to seeing dimmed.

“It doesn’t have to be like this.”

A statement. A challenge. A plea.

A sentence he's heard before, just worded differently. The start of an argument they've had countless times by now. Jin looks deep into RJ’s eyes, pleading with him to stop the script before it plays out again.

Something flashes in those irises. Something bright, but not kind. Jin’s face immediately hardens at the sight. 

_Ready…_

_Action._

Jin sighs and turns back to his cleaning. “You know that's not true.”

RJ doesn't waste any time. 

“ _Bullshit_ ,” the softness of his voice dissipates into the muggy air, “This _isn't_ how this has to be. You know it too.”

Jin gets the last of the shards onto the dustpan and walks to the trash can, pressing on the pedal to open the lid. “You think if I knew that we'd be like this?” He shoves the shards into the can and puts down the dustpan. “What do you suppose we do, RJ?”

“We just do what we did before, we wing it.”

“We wing it,” Jin parrots, tone incredulous. “Wing it until when, huh? Wing it until debut, then keep winging it until our contracts end in _seven years_? Wing it until we get caught and the whole group is disbanded?”

RJ’s face darkens. “We can just do what we did before,” he repeats the same argument, “it worked then, and it'll keep working!”

“It didn't!” Jin throws his hands up, “Can't you see that? It didn't work, and the company _knew_ at that meeting. Do you know how ridiculous you sound?”

RJ stands up from the couch at that, eyes ablaze. “ _Fuck you,_ Jin.” The remaining soju in his bottle thrashes around at the sudden movement. “Do you know how ridiculous I _feel_?”

“You cutting me off and pretending like I don't exist every other day? You pretending like touching me is gonna burn you alive? Do you know the shit that bounces around in my head now because of you? I'm going _insane._ ”

Tense moments pass, and Jin looks down to the floor, feeling RJ’s eyes burn into his skull. Burn into his chest. 

“Look RJ, I'm sorry, we don't have a choice—”

“—You're _not_ sorry!!” RJ is yelling now, voice echoing against the wooden floors. “Don't tell me you're _fucking sorry_ , like you suddenly think what you're doing is wrong.” He walks over to Jin, gets in his face. He presses his hand with the bottle into his chest, and almost spits venom with his next words. “You’re a self-righteous _coward._ You say there's no choice but you're just too fucking afraid to make one!”

Jin steps back, fists clenching. 

“I am trying my _fucking_ best, RJ!!”

Jin hates his voice when he yells, but it leaves his chest like an explosion nonetheless. “I just want the team to be happy, for us to succeed, okay!? _The team_ , RJ. Have you thought about that!?”

“Of course I've thought about the team! I love the team! I love _you!”_

Jin retreats back at the statement, and hot tears begin to stream down RJ’s face. They're both breathing heavily, and it feels as if the flames of their bridge now light the walls and everything in the room around them, inches away from engulfing them whole.

If Jin could go back in time, butterflies and all, he wishes he could take back his next words.

“We can’t be selfish about this. You need to think about someone other than yourself, for once.”

Suddenly the flames are gone. The walls are untouched, the coffee table still intact. RJ’s eyes are now darkened, the fire in them extinguished. Only the light from the hallway illuminates the two as they stand.

RJ steps back, and scoffs, looking to the side.

“You know, you’re right.” He lets out a breathy laugh, placing his bottle on the table. “I’m selfish. I’ve fucked up so much shit in the past couple months, and hurt the team. I know that.” 

He looks back at Jin, and his facetious smile betrays his eyes. Jin sees nothing but defeat in them now.

“That’s why I’m leaving.”

Jin’s glare turns confused.

“...what? What are you talking about?”

RJ looks down to the ground, mouth still curved up in a grimace. 

“I’m leaving. BigHit. Bangtan. Everything. I wasn't gonna tell you this way, but my meeting to terminate my contract is tomorrow.”

Jin’s shock must show on his face, because RJ’s hardens in reaction.

His tone is cold, empty. 

“...I can’t hurt you guys anymore.”

Jin’s stomach drops. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. 

Something in his heart takes charge, and his hand reaches out. “...RJ—“

RJ reels back, “ _Don’t fucking touch me.”_

RJ’s eyes close and he breathes out, and all Jin sees is the boy he loves, the boy he broke.

“...Guys?” 

Suddenly the light is on, and at the entrance from the hallway stands Namjoon, Ryan mascot pajamas and all.

RJ turns and walks into the hallway, pushing past Namjoon. Before Jin can even lower his hand, he hears the door shut and the keypad beep. 

Jin doesn’t breathe. He stares at the spot RJ stood and then looks to Namjoon.

Namjoon walks up to him, and punches him straight in the jaw.

Jin falls to the ground, vision white and ears ringing.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Namjoon _spits._

Jin just groans. He hears multiple sets of footsteps and another clicking of the front door.

He isn’t sure how long he lies there, clutching his jaw, but somehow Hobi is there, and he’s crying.

“H—hyung, you have to go after them, I—I think RJ is still drunk, and—“ 

Jin‘s head is pulled into Hobi’s lap for a second, but suddenly the pain and dizziness are gone. He sits straight up, head almost crashing into Hobi’s as he does so. He looks into Hobi’s confused tear-stained eyes, and all of sudden his body takes control, moving without a second thought. 

Jin’s never run so fast in his life.

He bursts out their front door and he thinks he passes Yoongi on his way down the stairs. He runs into the street, frantic but with direction. His feet carry him blindly into the dark cold of night, but he knows exactly where he’s going.

He has to be there. He didn’t see where Namjoon or RJ went, but he knew RJ would meet him there. 

The place where everything was theirs. The place where they started. The place where the end for them didn’t exist.

His feet stung with every step and his lungs burned, but he didn’t stop until his hands were peeling back the chain link fencing. He shoved himself inside and let out a frantic yell.

“RJ!”

…

But nobody came.

What met him instead of RJ were the blossoms of the smeraldos. The blooms gazed back at him for the first time, swaying in the slight wind as their colors beamed in the moonlight. Jin’s breath slowed, his lungs filling with their soft flowery scent.

Jin stood alone at the entrance of the garden, the brick walls silent and sullen as the vines growing into them rustled in the breeze. Jin slowly moved to the center of the garden and sat on their blanket. RJ had bought it for cheap from a street market vendor in Gangnam. It was soft under his fingers as he sat down and grasped at it.

He waited. He knew RJ would come. He knew he could fix this. Fix what he had broken. Make everything right. He just had to wait for RJ to come through the fence, and meet him among the smeraldos.

He kept waiting. He waited as the moon watched over him, her beams shining between the buildings to illuminate the garden. He waited until the chill of night seeped its way into his bones. He was in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans, dried soju stains still patched around his legs.

He waited. And waited.

But nobody came.

The moon eventually left him, the sky slowly turning from black into the muted soft blue of the coming sunrise. Jin just breaths. _In, out_ , as the sky slowly shifts. He waits.

The fence of the garden rustles and Jin’s breath halts. He scrambles across the blanket to meet RJ at the entrance, but he freezes.

At the entrance of the garden stands Namjoon.

His eyes are wide, but the bags under them droop low, aging him further than Jin thinks should be possible for a barely 17-year-old. He’s still in his Ryan pajamas, but the ends of his pants are darkened, dirty. 

His sleeves, however, are stained with something that isn't dirt. Something that burns unmistakable against the garden’s softened palette of blues and purples.

Namjoon’s voice shakes. Suddenly Jin can't see anything, and his vision blurs.

“Hyung... R—RJ… he…”

All Jin hears are the rustling of the smeraldo flowers, the blooms swaying in the wind as he cries.

* * *

That night, a motorcycle had popped a wheel and the driver had swerved uncontrollably to the left. A pick-up truck passing by swerved into the other lane to avoid the bike, but couldn't brake in time to avoid hitting the boy that was running across the street.

Namjoon had found RJ there, just before the ambulance arrived. The truck driver swore into his phone and cried, and the motorcyclist wouldn't stop rambling with her apologies, but Namjoon couldn't hear their words. He only held RJ in his lap as the boy had looked up into his eyes.

“Hyung… i-it's okay.” RJ stuttered in between weak breaths.

“You’ll all be okay.” A small smile, and then nothing more _._

  
  
  


The company somehow hid the fact from the public that RJ had died with alcohol in his blood. The whole accident was deemed exactly that, _an unfortunate accident,_ and from the business side of things it was brushed aside fairly quickly. Despite the grief plaguing of the entire building, trainers and trainees alike, things eventually moved on.

Plans were rearranged for the boys to debut as a group of four. When the company briefed the boys with the new details of their track to debut, Jin refused the role of leader for the group. Namjoon was chosen to lead in his place.

  
  
  


_“You know, my mom said these are from Italy, so I don't even think they'll grow here.”_

_RJ kneels at the edge of one of the patches of dirt, wielding a spade he had bought from the hardware store a couple blocks down._

_Jin shuffles from his spot on the quilt, pulling his guitar further up onto his leg. He reaches over to adjust his notebook, making the chords he had jotted down easier to read._

_“Then why are you planting them?” Jin glances over to see RJ patting a mound he had just formed beside one of the succulents. He hummed as he finished, sitting back to admire his work._

_“Hmm…” RJ tapped his chin, searching for an answer in his thoughts. Jin continued to play, strumming and plucking and pressing his fingers hard into the frets in order to get a full sound. When he pulled his fingers back, the calluses on them stung from the sudden lack of pressure._

_“Agh,” Jin gasped and pulled his hand back, but suddenly RJ was knelt in front of him, wrapping both his hands around Jin’s left wrist. He gently brought Jin’s hand closer to his mouth and blew on the fingers, the cold air soothing the swelling._

_“Well, my mom mailed them to me so it'd be rude to mail them back.” He looks into Jin’s eyes and Jin swears he sees the stars dance around in then. “And you know, wouldn't it be cool if they grew? Thrived in a place they didn't belong?”_

_He lowered Jin’s hand to his lap and beamed at him._

_“I'm not gonna deny them the chance to try.”_

_Maybe back then_

_A little_

_Just this much_

_If I had the courage to stand before you_

_Would everything be different now?_

_\- “The Truth Untold” by BTS -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/averyseptember)  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/averyseptember)  
> [fic thread (pls like/rt/share if you enjoyed)](https://twitter.com/averyseptember/status/1339267264688754689?s=20)  
>   
> Hi... my beta readers have informed me that I owe everyone who reads this chapter an apology, so I'm very very very sorry.  
> Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope to see you next chapter. Also, if you enjoyed, please leave me Kudos and Comments !! They make me so so happy.  
> Thank you (and sorry to) to Kayla and Morgan for being my beta readers.
> 
> Kinda Important Chapter Notes:  
> \- A lot of thought actually went into this chapter and this subplot (if you'll let me be a total nerd for a moment):  
> \- The story of RJ and Jin is heavily based on The Truth Untold (I tried to match every chapter with a song, but this match was definitely the strongest).  
> \- The lyrics from the song The Truth Untold are based of the legend of the smeraldo flower, in which a grotesque man who hates the outside world lives in a castle all by himself, with a beautiful garden. One day the man sees a woman stealing flowers from his garden, and he follows her to find that she sells them to make a living. He hides from her but does not stop her, and he eventually finds that he wants to help her. However he is afraid that she will be afraid of him if he shows his true flawed self, so he develops the smeraldo flower for her in private. He places the flowers in the garden, but she never comes back, and he later finds out that she had passed (This was part of the secret blog that was a teaser for the Love Yourself: HER comeback).  
> \- ^^ That's a rough summary of the tale, but the main point of it is to wonder what would have happened if the man had shown his true self to the woman. Could he have saved her?  
> I paralleled this with Jin and RJ. The lyrics taken from the song at both the beginning and the end of the chapter are actually Jin's own lines.  
> \- Again I'm really sorry if this chapter made you sad, but I hope you come to read more once I update! I would say we are about 40-45% through now.  
> \- Lastly if you enjoyed please like and retweet this [fic twt thread](https://twitter.com/averyseptember/status/1339267264688754689?s=20) to help me spread my fic !! I would greatly appreciate it.


	6. Jamais Vu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3l2dgQ7b2Ycj9AWfuMgWw0?si=bBaU__iiScKMHckpN_ky-Q) I made especially for this fic.

_Please give me a remedy_

_A remedy to make my heart beat again_

_What should I do now_

_Please save me, give me another chance_

_\- “Jamais Vu” by BTS -_

The rain feels cold.

In the coastal city of Busan, the rain is normally associated with summer, hot humid tropical storms pelting the bare skin of everyone and everything, residents always at a constant war between the decision of covering up to protect themselves or stripping down to diminish the heat. Regardless, the summer rain finds a way to leave everyone slightly damp, whether it be through the rain itself or through beads of stickly sweat. 

As summer winds down into fall, the rain usually stays, but not in its entirety. Rather, the humid storm clouds make way for September’s slight drizzles, and a creeping chill presents a subtle warning of winter along the horizon.

This year, however, it seems that the weather has thrown all subtlety to the wind. Pun intended. Jungkook and Jimin step into the dining hall, two windbreakers away from being drenched in ice-cold rain.

_“Flash flood warnings today have been issued in multiple areas of the city. Citizens are advised to avoid driving unless necessary, due to some flooded highways and increased traffic.”_

The television in the cafeteria plays a news broadcast of a woman standing in front of a weather map of the city, covered by morphing warning-blobs of red and orange.

“I can barely hear my own thoughts,” Jimin stretches and leans back in his chair, his eyes still glued to his laptop. He blows pink bangs from his eyes and pushes up his glasses, pouting along with his complaint.

Jungkook looks to the windows of the large building. The rain thrashes at them, and Jungkook swears he can see some of the larger ones shake from the constant attack. Both the windows and the faint of heart (in this case, Jimin and other students scattered around the dining hall) seem to shudder at the roar of the storm, echoing off every roof on campus. Along with rain, the entire world outside is coated in a deep faded blue, the clouds intent on hiding the sun and in turn the true time of day. They’re eating lunch at 2 PM, but one without a watch might guess it was already far past dusk. 

According to the broadcasts, the autumn storms were not exclusive to Busan, or even exclusive to the coast. The entirety of Korea was evidently at war with torrential rains, an army of fashionably-transparent umbrellas employed to protect the nation’s citizens. The rain fell like angry tears from the clouds, all the way from Jeju to Seoul.

... _Seoul._

Jungkook’s mind pauses from the thought, and his jjajangmyeon falls from his chopsticks. Jimin doesn’t notice. Jungkook sighs and places the chopsticks back down.

Disastrous as they seem, and just like these storms eventually will...

Life moves on.

Jungkook had easily fallen back into his regular weekly routine.

He went to his classes and work and rehearsals, did all his homework, and grinded his computer games late into the night, pepero boxes by his side. 

He no longer had to worry about sudden out-of-body experiences every time he closed his eyes. It should’ve been comforting. Relaxing, even.

Jungkook feels anything but.

It's a weird feeling, really. It made him feel childish. Every time he woke up in his own bed, he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. 

“Hey.”

Jimin’s soft tone pulls him from his mind.

He turns to Jimin’s laptop now closed but his eyes wide open, analyzing everything from Jungkook’s face to his posture. Jungkook tries to sit up and brighten up a bit, but it's too late. He's already been caught.

Jimin, self-proclaimed _master_ doter, may often be compared to a baby chick, but hunts with the eyes of a _hawk_.

Before Jungkook can pull away, a hand reaches over his on the table. Light and consoling, the brush of a soft feather.

“Hey,” he repeats, “is something wrong?”

Jungkook turns away from the concern churning deep in Jimin’s irises. It makes his stomach do the same.

“No, hyung. I'm fine.”

Jimin scoffs, surprisingly. His hand tightens around Jungkook’s on the table.

“Kook-ah, if you're gonna lie, you're gonna have to try harder than that.” 

Jungkook looks down at Jimin’s hand over his own, then back up to his face. Even back in high school, Jungkook struggled to look him in the eyes in moments like these.

Even though he knows it's pointless, he pulls his hand away. “It's really fine, hyung, I swear, I'm just a little out of it.”

Not a good enough excuse, Jungkook knows. Not satisfactory to explain to Jimin why he's been “out of it” for almost two weeks now. 

Despite how much he thinks he effectively hid it, Jimin had been the first to notice Jungkook suddenly being shifted off-kilter. He saw the way his best friend was quieter when he spoke and sullen as he walked, mind somewhere far away. Always the first to see the signs, Jimin had been the first to start endlessly doting on him.

Jungkook feels the eyes of his hyung on him as he picks up his chopsticks again. He begins to slurp extra loud as if to show exactly how hungry and _normal_ he feels. To his luck, Jimin seems to take the message and drops the subject, opening up his laptop again.

The subject doesn’t stay far for long, though.

The next day Jungkook sits in the small classroom, staring out a window. The rumbles of rain accompany the rumble of his students as they roam about the desks, spilling paint onto their papers as well as each other. This week's class had already been planned out for him, so he took the chance to space out as the kids did their thing. 

The laughs and giggles (mixed with the occasional burst of tears) seem muted to Jungkook, his ears only focused in on the soft drumming of the droplets against the glass.

Jungkook feels like a lost child, wondering if he's hearing the same thing.

A tap on his shoulder gets his attention. He looks down to find an actual child, Harin, her eyes wide with curiosity as they stare into Jungkook's own.

"Jeon-saengnim, are you okay?"

Jungkook shakes out the trance from his shoulders and wipes his hand on his apron, feeling the rough patches of dried paint. He squats down until he's at eye level with the girl.

"Yes Harin, I'm fine. Did you need any help?" Jungkook plasters on a smile for her, but she doesn't seem convinced. She raises an eyebrow, and Jungkook's smile turns a slight bit more genuine at her attitude. Harin was always acting older than she was.

"It didn't work, did it?"

Jungkook tilts his head to the side at the girl as her pout grows. "What didn't work, sweetie?"

She hands him her paper. He looks down at her work to find large splots of yellow tempera paint, outlined with black marker to form the shape of a bunny.

"Today's project," Jungkook glances back up to Harin's frown, "you said it would make you feel better."

"I did?"

Harin sighs dramatically, taking back her paper, "You said if we used yellow it would help you feel better, but I can tell you're still sad."

Jungkook's chest drops at the young girl's insight. Blunt, but nothing he can argue against. The weight in his sternum only grows as he realizes it must've been Namjoon who planned today's lesson.

Before he can say anything in response, Harin is walking away, muttering about how maybe adding a warrior unicorn would get the project to work. He stares after her as she waddles away, again getting lost in his own thoughts.

To his frustration, the memories of his time as Namjoon grew hazier by the day. He kept at his sketches, but he could only ever remember so much to record in his journal. Other than distant memories, he couldn't remember much, the name of Namjoon's company and district already lost to him.

Jungkook hadn't just sat and moped, he wasn't some shy middle schooler with a crush. He had gone out of his way to contact Namjoon, after the third or fourth day with no switch. His emails got no response, his calls never went through. Jungkook had scoured his journal for any other forms of contact Namjoon could have left in his notes, but the search had come up empty, all of his lost memories as Namjoon recorded in Namjoon’s journal and not his own. Nothing but Jungkook's sketches of the Bangtan boys and Namjoon’s neat handwriting and polaroids stared back at him. All those along with Harin's words now bounced around in his brain.

Feeling lost in the middle of the noisy primary school classroom, lost in the middle of Korea's largest recorded rainstorm, and lost in the middle of his own wave of thoughts, Jungkook makes a decision.

He knows he should let it go. It was over, it had ended. The ghost, the curse, the string of fate, whatever it was that haunted them and yanked their souls between their bodies had left them. Jungkook should be happy going back to his normal life, and he should be happy letting Namjoon go back to his.

But Jungkook could be a little selfish sometimes. Something in the pit of his stomach told him it wasn't over, something deep in his chest told him to chase after it. He should leave that waking feeling of love in his chest behind. He knows he should, but...

Jungkook has never had much self-restraint.

* * *

“What…” Jungkook slides to a stop, shoes almost losing traction against the wet slippery concrete of the platform, “are you guys doing here?”

Across the platform stand his two best friends, both equipped with bulky backpacks, and bumbling smirks.

Jimin bounces up to him and reaches up a hand to ruffle his hair. Jungkook swats it away on instinct.

“You really thought we'd let you go on a vacation to Seoul without us?” Jimin resigns from ruffling his hair and pulls him into a hug instead.

Jungkook pouts into his roommate’s shoulder. “It’s not a vacation.”

Taehyung’s voice rings from behind Jimin. “Well considering the fact that we all took off work and are skipping classes to meet your online boyfriend, let's call it a vacation.” 

Jungkook pushes out of Jimin’s arms. “He’s _not_ my boyfriend!”

Jimin just smirks harder. “You're cute when you're lying.”

Jungkook huffs, but his annoyance dissipates as he meets Taehyung’s eyes over Jimin’s shoulder. The drummer offers a warm smile and a tilt of his head, but Jungkook sees something else beneath his eyes.

Jungkook had read Namjoon’s last entry many times over in his search for clues. It had stated that the date with Taehyung had gone less than stellar, followed by many apologies, but assured that nothing about their friendship had changed. Taehyung had said the same when Jungkook had asked, but signs in his hyung’s actions made Jungkook fear otherwise. He saw Taehyung’s newfound hesitation when initiating touches, his smiles that fell from his face slightly too soon. Jungkook’s heart ached knowing something had come between him and one of his best friends, and he wished he could do something to close the sudden distance.

For now, he returns Taehyung’s smile, and is relieved to see Taehyung’s shine tenfold back at him.

“Wait, so you're telling me…” Jimin grips his poor coffee cup a little harder. He places it on the table of the booth between them, and it shakes a little as the train rumbles.

“... that I'm going to Seoul to meet someone but I don't know where they live or have any way to contact them and the only clue I have of them are the sketches in my notebook from memory? Yes.”

Jimin’s eyebrows crease as he gives Jungkook an incredulous look. Jungkook holds his stare, face deadpanned. He knows what he's saying sounds crazy, but he can't explain it further. It would only sound more insane. 

Jimin sits back into his seat and sighs, “And here I was thinking Tinder was just gaining popularity in Korea.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes in response to Jimin’s joke and gazes to his right out the window. A majority of the nation passes by in a wet blur. There's about two and a half hours left of the train ride, Jungkook already having endured dodging Jimin and Taehyung’s questions for a good thirty minutes. He watches as trees, buildings, and mountains alike waltz across the landscape as the train glides along, brushed and blended together by the rain struggling to cling to the train’s windows.

After a couple moments of silence, Jimin speaks up again.

“Kook-ah,” his voice is hesitant, “if the number _and_ the email they gave you are wrong…”

Their carriage hits a bump and Jungkook grips the armrest.

“...are you sure this person _wants_ to see you?”

Jungkook breath catches. He stumbles to respond.

“I—it's not like that. I just…”

He stops. Something in Jungkook’s stomach drops when he realizes he doesn't really have an answer.

Surprisingly, Taehyung speaks up from Jimin's side. Other than the occasional small inquiry about Namjoon, he had been near-silent the entire ride so far.

“Jiminie, stop,” he places a hand on Jimin’s shoulder. “We can trust Kookie on this one, I'm sure it's not like that.” 

Jimin’s regret shows on his face and he quickly apologizes but trails off, “Kookie, I didn't mean it like that, I just…”

“We just want to look out for you,” Taehyung finishes. Jimin nods in affirmation.

Once again Taehyung’s voice alleviates the tension in the air. He locks eyes with Jungkook’s and scrunches his nose as he flashes a grin.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out together, Kook.”

An hour or two later, both of his hyungs have fallen asleep, both snoring slightly as Jimin leans into Taehyung’s shoulder.

Jungkook observes them both then turns back to the window. The early afternoon sun still isn't visible, but the rain had died down as they approached Seoul. It feels like it's the first time in weeks that he's heard the absence of rainfall. 

Surprisingly, the peaceful silence doesn't bring him any solace. Without the rain, his thoughts seem much louder.

_Maybe Jimin has a point._

Would Namjoon even _want_ to see him? Would he be angry? _Annoyed?_ Is Jungkook in over his head here? He feels like they had gotten close, but how close could two get never having talked face to face? He sighs, deflating his chest and sinking back into his seat, closing his eyes.

He thinks of Namjoon’s face. His strong jaw, his soft almond eyes. Thinks of the hair he dyed purple, and imagines how Namjoon’s face might've looked when he saw it and scratched all those exclamations in his journal. The thought makes him laugh a little.

His mind drifts to Namjoon’s photos in his journal. To Namjoon’s notes. He remembers the way they argued and bickered, the way they developed little inside jokes, the way they slowly fit snugly into each other's lives, as if it had always been that way.

Was that the problem? Had they gotten too comfortable?

Namjoon used to write a certain thought to Jungkook occasionally, worded differently each time but worrying all the same. 

_“You know, It's nice to be someone else for a while.”_

Jungkook knows that the two had both found an escape into each other's lives, and he wonders how that might have contributed to the way he felt when it suddenly came to a stop. So caught up in the business and bustle of his own life that he had almost forgotten, Jungkook had learned again from Namjoon what it felt like to love, and to be loved. He wonders if Namjoon could see all the love in his life himself. Jungkook’s heart aches a little at the thought.

No matter if Namjoon is excited to see him or not, no matter if he misses the switches or not...

Jungkook hopes he's happy.

A sudden snort from Taehyung jolts him from his train of thought, and he wonders how his mind had even gotten there. A sign above them shows they're finally nearing Seoul.

Jungkook exhales once again. He's already here, and there's one thing for sure.

When they see each other, they'll know.

They'll know each other's faces, cause even if they've never met face to face they've met face to _mirror_. Jungkook would see the purple hair he likes so much from miles away and Namjoon would recognize in an instant the lilt of Jungkook’s voice as he called his name. They’ll know it’s them, like it's the only thing they ever have. This was the person they shared their life with, shared their soul with.

Where things go from there? Jungkook doesn't know, but something in the rain, something deep within the clouds of the storm pulls him to find out.

  
  


Seoul approaches in the distance without much grandeur, the urban metropolis so vast and wide that it’s hard to pinpoint exactly where and when they entered it. Jimin and Taehyung both wake up and ogle at the skyline, but Jungkook just stares as the skyscrapers grow closer and taller, chin resting on his hand.

Jungkook had been to Seoul a handful of times before, to visit relatives and to be dragged around the shopping districts and street food stalls by his extravagantly generous aunties. Back then the city had been an explosion of wonders, every building and neon sign rich with adventure and excitement.

Now, in the frame of the train window, the city looks drained of all that wonder, dreary and grey against the backdrop of the overcast clouds. The city shifts with all the moving cars and vehicles, and it seems as if anyone, anything could get lost among the rippling, overlapping landscape.

Jungkook hopes he finds what—or, who—he's looking for among those waves.

He steps off onto the platform into the city as his boots squeak against the wet metal flooring. Before he knows it, it's Jimin who’s squeaking, dragging the other two along to the first trendy Seoul sashimi place he sees for lunch. 

They start off their search by visiting some of the smaller entertainment company buildings Jungkook had searched up online. He doesn't remember the name of Namjoon’s but figured it would be a good way to start. 

The conversations they have with people at each front desk turn out… awkward, to say the least. 

“You're looking for this person?” The woman behind the counter pushes up her glasses and leans closer. Her black ponytail rests in loose waves on her shoulder.

“Yes!” Jungkook holds the journal a little higher for her to see. She squints at it. “He has uh… purple hair, and like… a dimple? A really prominent dimple like right there,” he points at Namjoon’s cheek in the sketch. The woman’s eyes look back and forth between his finger and him.

Jungkook lowers his journal and starts to skim through the pages, laughing weakly. “Haha, uh… never mind, how about uh…”

A page of just Jin's hands, _no_ . A page of five versions of Yoongi’s smile, _no_ . A page of Namjoon’s _arm—_

“Ah!” He flips it back up for her to see. “This guy! He's a dancer!”

The woman frowns, and Jungkook tries hard not to let it deter him. “Sir, if you're looking for a trainee, I can assure you there are plenty of dancers in this building.” 

Jungkook trudges on, holding up a smile, “No no no, you see, he's like a _really_ good dancer, like better than anyone. He also smiles like the sun, and like, bounces up and down as he talks?”

She blinks. For a moment they just stare at each other. Jungkook’s eye starts to twitch.

“Does this person have a name, sir?”

Jungkook almost chokes on nothing. “A-Ah, a name!” he sputters, “why didn't I think of that?” He laughs again, but she stays silent, generously offering him a grimace. He prays she isn't starting to think he's a sasaeng.

“His name is Hobi—I mean, Hoseok, Jung Hoseok. I think his stage name is like um… _‘hope,’_ like the English word?... or was it ' _sugar?’...”_

His face falls as she looks to the sketch for another moment but then she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I'm afraid there's no one of that name here, sir.”

Jungkook lowers his journal and glances back to Taehyung and Jimin, who stand by the glass doors. Taehyung raises his eyebrows and flashes a questioning thumbs up. Jungkook looks down and then back to the woman. 

“Okay, thank you for your help anyway. Have a nice day.”

The rest of their search more or less turns up empty. Jimin and Taehyung sometimes get distracted in the sights and conducting impromptu photo shoots with Jungkook's polaroid camera, but Jungkook doesn't blame them. They trudge back and forth under the clouds between multiple buildings, meeting various empty leads. Not all the companies’ staff are as kind as that woman, some angry men in suits dismissing him immediately or threatening to call security if he keeps pressing questions. Jungkook has to jump through multiple hoops in order and come up with various stories to explain that he's friends with the trainees he’s looking for and not just some crazy stalker. Although, after a number of questioning glares and raised eyebrows, he starts to feel like he might just be exactly that.

By the time they've exhausted Jungkook’s list of companies, the sky has already started to dim, the clouds in the sky accelerating the coming darkness of the sunset. They're sitting at a small cafe, waiting for a few hot drinks before they set out again, Jimin suggesting that they look for landmarks or areas that Jungkook might recognize from when he drew them in his journal. 

Jungkook sits at the small raised table slouching into his sketches, again working on capturing the likeness of the Bangtan boys. The cafe is crowded and loud, but Jungkook is lost in the page, pencil delicately adding shadows to Hobi’s face. Maybe if he captured more of his laugh, more of his defining brightness, someone would recognize it.

“Can we help you?” Taehyung’s voice hides a warning.

Jungkook looks up across the table to see Jimin and Taehyung pointedly staring at someone behind him. He turns to find a woman standing there in a large brown knit cardigan, a small leather purse slung around her shoulder. Even in the cramped space of the crowded cafe, she was standing a little close for comfort.

She steps back and wipes her eyes. “Ah I'm so sorry,” her voice is soft and hides some embarrassment, “I didn't mean to stare, I just… really like your drawings.”

Jungkook glances down at his sketch of Hobi and back to her. “Oh… um, thanks.”

She smiles wistfully, “Yea, it just… reminds me of someone.”

Something sparks in Jungkook’s chest.

“Who?” He blurts out.

She hesitates, but answers promptly. “My brother… but I'm sorry for staring.” She turns and begins to walk away.

Jungkook reaches out and stops her. “Wait!” She turns back to him. “You know Hobi?”

Something flashes in her eyes as she looks back into Jungkook’s. “Yes, as I said, Hoseok’s my brother.”

 _This is it!_ Hope fills Jungkook’s stomach as he begins to recognize Hoseok’s likeness in the woman. The same long face, same bright eyes, same soft curved nose. 

“That's great! Hoseok-hyung, I'm his friend, I've been looking for him actually. Do you know where he is now?” 

The woman steps back at that, her face suddenly looking offended.

“I'm sorry? I don't know what you mean.”

“Jung Hoseok, the trainee? I've been looking for him and his friends, but my calls won't get through. D—Do you know what company he’s training under?”

Her eyebrows pinch together as she looks Jungkook up and down. “Sorry, but I actually don't think we're talking about the same person.” She begins to turn again.

Jungkook gets up from his seat and holds up his notebook to her, desperate to keep her from walking away. “No wait, this is him right? I just really need to see him. Please, help me.”

She glares over her shoulder, eyes going back and forth between the sketch and Jungkook’s pleading eyes. She exhales and frowns as she turns back and holds eye contact. Her next words are sharp.

“I'm afraid we can't be talking about the same Hoseok. My brother died three years ago.”

Suddenly Jungkook's stomach is hollow.

“What?” He returns her pointed glare with a confused one. His sudden volume shocks some of the bystanders around them, and some are staring. “T—That's impossible, I saw him just a couple weeks ago.”

Her face slowly grows more upset. “Look, kid. I don't know who you are but you can't know my brother. He was caught in the Seonam-Gu fires and I really don't need you to remind me.” 

Jungkook hears Jimin gasp behind him and Taehyung whispers, “Seonam-gu?” The name suddenly jolts Jungkook’s memory.

“Seonam-gu… and BigHit Entertainment, right?” he looks to her, frantic, but she only looks back with anger and to Jungkook’s dismay, _horror_.

“Is this some kind of sick prank? BigHit is gone.” she scoffs. “You need to leave me alone before I call the poli—”

Suddenly Taehyung is between them, and Jungkook feels hands on his shoulders suddenly pull him back and away from the area. The breath is knocked from his chest.

“I'm so so sorry, please excuse our friend, he's had a really stressful day,” Taehyung is using his _Barista of the Month_ voice. “We’ll leave you on your way now. Again so, _so_ sorry about that, I—” his words fade out and the sounds of the crowd and the city go mute to Jungkook’s ears. 

They stay like that. Muted, almost silent, nothing but a soft droning. As Jimin shakes his shoulders and asks what's gotten into him on the side of the street. As Taehyung calls a taxi at Jungkook’s request and hands him his drink. As they sit in the cramped back-seat of the vehicle, bunched up together without a word. 

Then the world is loud again, and Jungkook hears the breeze and distant traffic as he steps out of the vehicle. His boots splash lightly in a puddle.

They're at a dead-end of a street, the stores and restaurants around them are either closed or sparse with customers. Some new, updated-looking buildings stand out amongst the mostly run down and older ones, and a couple groups of construction vehicles are clumped around the street. The businesses run up until a roadblock in the street, where the street has old, worn cones and caution tape running across it. An orange sign, with its corners worn, sits in the middle atop the cracked asphalt. It reads:

**SEONAM-GU**

**SECTIONS CLOSED FOR REDEVELOPMENT**

**RESTRICTED AREA - DO NOT ENTER**

Jungkook stares at the sign, and then past it towards the rest of the street.

The buildings past the cones aren't just run down, but are completely abandoned and empty, appearing as if they've been that way for a while. The walls are cracked and the paint has chipped off of most of them.

Some of the walls no longer stand, the foundations crumbled into rubble on the sidewalk.

Jimin’s voice is soft and nervous, almost scared.

“Jungkook-ah, surely you must be mistaken. This place has been abandoned for years, it was in the news, remember?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “No, this is it.” One of the empty buildings on the right side of the street catches his eye. _Hobi’s bakery._ He begins to recognize the area, the outline of the streets he roamed as he ran Namjoon’s errands.

Taehyung speaks up next, and Jungkook feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Kookie, I'm sorry, but this doesn't make sense, maybe he's in one of the redeveloped areas? I—wait, where are you going!?”

Jungkook’s feet move without much thought. He feels Taehyung’s hand slip away as he takes off, hurdling over the cones and their caution tape. He runs down the street, past the bakery and towards an intersection he knows. He hears Jimin and Taehyung yelling for him to stop, but he can't. Not when he has to know. 

A right, a left, another right. Past the kind mother’s florist shop, past the convenience stores, all empty and faded now. His legs burn but he doesn't stop.

Until all of a sudden, he does. His legs seize up but he stands still in the street, breathing heavily. He looks up.

The previously six-story building now appears to be three, the remaining parts of the building damp from the rain and appearing aged from many years of weathering. The glass doors of the entrance are no longer there, the opening weakly sealed off by tattered caution tape, similar to the tape around some of the other more damaged buildings in the area. Jungkook sees the tile of the lobby, covered in dirt and gravel, mold growing in the spots that peak out. 

Looking up to the third, now top floor, he sees the half-gone walls sticking up in rigid patterns and edges. At the sight of this and the rubble that spreads out onto the street around him, Jungkook realized the floors above the third must have caved in.

He feels like vomiting.

Taehyung and Jimin catch up then, and come to a stop right behind him. 

“Kook-ah,” Taehyung gets out between heavy breaths, “What is this place? You've been here before?”

Jungkook doesn't answer, just steps forward and pushes past the caution tape. It snaps weakly against his fingers.

“Jungkook, it's dangerous!” Jimin yells. Jungkook keeps walking. He feels pieces of rubble crumble under his steps.

The foundational parts of the inside of the building are surprisingly mostly still intact. Jungkook sees what remains of the marble counter that was the front desk, sees the rusted metal doors that he remembers staff shuffling in and out of. He turns on his phone flashlight, and ventures further in, until he reaches the door he remembers leads to the emergency staircase. Ignoring Jimin’s warnings, he pushes the door open and trudges up the dark stairs, stepping past scattered rubble and debris.

2nd floor. 3rd door to the right. He walks up the door, Jimin and Taehyung close behind. He closes his eyes and pushes the door open.

It goes easily, the hinges creaking as the door slides across. Then, the familiar studio is there. If Jungkook were to squint, it was almost as if nothing had changed.

Well, a lot less than almost, actually. The four red walls stand the same, but some of the wallpaper has begun to peel. The desk is now empty with the desk chairs gone, and like the floor, it’s covered in gravel and dirt. The carpet is in patches and rotting, but the metal filing cabinet beside the desk seems to be the thing that has remained the most unchanged. 

Jungkook walks in and Taehyung and Jimin stand at the door watching, nervous that the floor could give in at any moment. He isn't sure what he's looking for when he pulls open one of the drawers. 

There at the bottom of the cabinet, shining in the light of Jungkook’s phone flashlight, sits Namjoon’s journal, as if he placed it there yesterday.

Jungkook reaches for it and opens it to a random page, staring down at the polaroid photos he himself remembers taking. His heart pounds so hard it feels like it's reaching up into his throat.

“This… isn't real…” his voice is hoarse.

Jimin voice is hesitant. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook thumbs at one of the pages, brushing over one of the entries he left for Namjoon. “I… I was here. Just a couple weeks ago. I wrote in this journal myself.”

“What? How?”

“Look.” Jungkook holds the worn journal up to him.

Jimin’s eyes scan it in the dark as Taehyung comes closer behind him. “Kookie, there's only pictures, what do you mean?”

“What? No, I wrote these entries, it's my handwriting, I—I…” Jungkook pulls the journal back to him, and suddenly he’s hit with a pang of nausea. His words stutter to a stop and his eyes go blurry as he blinks, specks of light dancing and teasing around the edges of his vision. The words, _his_ words on the page, are gone. In place of the words he had just run his finger over a moment ago, there's just empty pages, the only remaining things left in the journal being Namjoon’s writing and the polaroids.

Jungkook is speechless. He flips through the pages, and nothing he wrote is left. Absolutely nothing. 

Taehyung speaks then, and Jungkook barely processes his words. His thoughts are static, his mind blank.

“Kookie, this is the BigHit Entertainment building,” he reads from the dim light of his phone, “it was one of the buildings that collapsed in the Seonam-gu fires three years ago, when an underground gas pipe exploded without warning.”

He's dizzy. His sternum feels tight with shock. His throat isn't closed, but something in it makes him feel like he can't breath. A weight at the bottom of his lungs grows, pulling him down to the floor. 

“The company filed for bankruptcy after the fires, partly because most of their assets had been lost but also because…”

Down, down, down. Deeper into the dark.

“...at the time of the explosion, the company was having a monthly evaluation on the top floor. The building caught fire and collapsed. None of the trainees survived.”

* * *

“Eighty-six! Order eighty-six is ready!” a young girl's voice rings in the intercom.

Jimin looks down at his receipt and sighs. Ninety-two. They would be waiting a while. Jimin shivers at a sudden rush of cold air, Seoul’s breeze at night unforgiving as he sits on the curb outside the take-out restaurant. 

Before he can sit back on his hands, he feels a soft jacket being draped over his shoulder. The warmth of its owner clings to the material. 

He turns to his right to find Taehyung smiling at him, eyes crinkled and teeth flashing. Jimin stares back for a moment, and then frowns.

“Yah, keep your jacket on, you complain more than I do.” He pulls Taehyung’s jacket off and throws it back at him. It lands over his face.

“Hey! That is _not_ true.” Taehyung whines, grabbing at it as one of the zippers gets caught in his hair. He pulls too hard and yelps.

Jimin laughs at him and reaches up to pull it off safely. He silently hopes the distraction was long enough for his face to cool down.

The jacket pulls away to reveal Taehyung’s pout. “Just keep it on, c’mon. I'll be fine walking back, lemme be nice to you.”

Jimin holds his stare for a moment and then sighs, deciding to give in.

“Fine, Tae, but no whining if _you_ get cold.” He drapes it around his shoulders again.

“You can make sure of that,” Taehyung quips with a grin and suddenly ducks down, burrowing himself under Jimin’s right arm.

As he settles there Jimin turns his head away and huffs, but still pulls him closer until his hand finds a place on his side.

It's normal. Nothing Jimin hasn't done a thousand times, or something Taehyung hasn't done for him a thousand more. 

It's casual, but still, Jimin’s breath catches.

They've been like this for what felt like an eternity. Taehyung by Jimin’s side and Jimin by his. There for each other since the start of time, the start of the world they shared (read: primary school). Even when they met Jungkook and formed the Golden Boys, they had only grown closer with an added dongsaeng.

Somewhere in between all those years, Jimin and Taehyung’s line between best friends, soulmates, or somehow something even more than that had blurred beyond recognition. Melted into the oceans of Busan, always pushing back and forth, unsure where to start or end.

Holding him tight to his side now, Jimin wonders when Taehyung would realize that it didn't matter where the tide set the line anymore, as Jimin had dove head-first into his ocean long ago.

From deep in the waves, Jimin remembers the reason they're here in Seoul, on this curbside, and his stomach lurches, head bursting up from the surface of the water.

You see, Jimin hates jealous people.

He swears he hates the idea of envying others just because they have what they don't. It's a waste of time and energy, and nobody’s fault except the person’s own. Completely immature and ridiculous.

You see, Jimin _definitely_ doesn't see himself as a jealous person.

...but sometimes his mind runs away from him.

Now, he _loves_ Jungkook. He loves his roommate, his dongsaeng, his armrest (despite Jungkook being taller), his little adorable bunny-teethed brat. He loves him... but sometimes the dark side of his heart takes over.

It's weird how uncontrollable it is, really. Every time Taehyung’s eyes go soft at the sight or mention of Jungkook, Jimin's brain kinda just pulls a blank, a flushing sound rings in his ears, and he forgets what the entire conversation prior had been about. Taehyung rambles on about Jungkook’s cool new rap skills or some movie Jungkook had recently told him to watch and Jimin's mind would suddenly check out of the area, his usual “ _hm?”s_ and “ _yea!”s_ turning into “ _ah”s_ and " _oh”s._

Already knowing about their failed date, hearing Taehyung insist that they venture across the country to help Jungkook find _someone else_ to love confused and sparked the jealousy in Jimin to no end, but he had gone along with it nonetheless. However, in the pit of his stomach, he felt the guilt of knowing his first thought of the idea was of jealousy and not about actually helping Jungkook, also someone precious to him.

So yes, maybe Jimin hates jealous people… maybe he hates people who would dare be jealous of their _own two best friends…_

...but maybe Jimin hates himself sometimes too.

“Jiminie.”

Jimin jumps at his name, pulled back into the cold of the night air from his thoughts. He tugs Taehyung's jacket tighter around both of them.

A little overwhelmed with his sudden emotions, he buries his nose into Taehyung’s hair, trying to dispel all the dark thoughts of envy and resentment with the smell of his shampoo.

“What is it?” He whispers softly.

“Uh, I think they called Ninety-two.”

It takes Jimin a second, but once he processes what Taehyung said, his moment of weakness is cut short, and he quickly shifts back into his normal self, the feelings in his chest suddenly nowhere to be found as he jumps up from the curb. 

“Right! Uh… I'll go get the food, wait here.”

“...What do you think?”

Jimin looks up to the back of Taehyung’s head. His wavy hair bounces as they walk back to the hotel, take-out bags in hand.

“Huh?”

“Of Jungkook’s story. What do you think?”

“Oh.” Jimin turned back to the sidewalk as their feet shuffle along. 

Jimin had known something was wrong. He had seen how Jungkook had changed over the past couple weeks. It seemed as if he had become a whole new person and then suddenly drew back into himself violently, all barely in the course of a month. 

Never did he imagine it would be something like this. The whole day they had humored him, played along with his boundless search and sketch-filled scavenger hunt, but the result had been nothing short of bizarre. If he had known the day would have ended following Jungkook to traverse into a building three stomps away from crumbling to pieces, he would have stayed home and passed on the tomb-raider-like activities. 

The story didn't make sense, either to him or Taehyung, but there was no denying the reality of the emotion in Jungkook’s eyes when he pleaded with them, begged someone to understand and believe him.

Jimin sighed. His breath clouded in the cool air as they walked. “I'm not sure… you saw those articles… you remember the fires in the news three years ago… what he's saying doesn't make any sense.”

According to the articles, some malfunction or maintenance flaw in a large gasline pipe under a crowded area of the district had caused it to explode at approximately 9:17 PM on the night of September 12th, 2012. With no warning or alarms before the explosion, many people were eating late dinners or simply living out their lives in the businesses and residential buildings in the area near the explosion. Many buildings caught fire, but even with no fire many buildings collapsed or had their foundations greatly damaged from the impact of the blast. Even today, three years later, much of the area has yet to be qualified for safe redevelopment, and a majority of Seonam-gu is still restricted from the public for reasons of structural integrity. In the accident, hundreds of people were injured and many went missing or were killed. Jungkook, in hysterics, claimed that the friends they had been looking for were on the list of victim’s names they had found online.

Jimin and Taehyung didn't know what to tell him, but once he calmed down he agreed to wait in the hotel room while they grabbed food.

Their footsteps were quiet against the cool concrete. “What do you think, Tae?”

Tae stops walking and Jimin stops beside him. Tae looks up to the sky, now dark but with no stars, nothing but the glowing lights of the city’s skyscrapers against the black clouds. Jimin studies his profile, trying to read his face before he speaks.

“I think… I liked him.”

Jimin’s stomach twists unwillingly.

Taehyung scoffs. “Well, you knew that. I just mean… he had been different recently, you know? Not always so uptight and serious. It was cute.”

Jimin nods slowly and they continue to walk as he speaks. 

“I'm not sure if I really had deep feelings for him or not, since it might've just been the fact that I knew he liked me in high school, but… the change he had was interesting to say the least, right?”

Jimin swallows down the bile in his throat. _Not about you,_ he reminds himself.

“I… don't understand what he's saying… his story really doesn't make any sense, but… one thing is for sure.”

Taehyung turns and meets Jimin’s eyes. Jimin holds his gaze, unwavering.

“He met someone, and that someone changed him for good. No matter what, we should help him find them, right?”

Jimin nodded. No matter his jealousy, no matter how crazy Jungkook’s words seemed, they needed to help their friend figure out what was going on, what was hurting him. That much was for sure.

When they return to the hotel room, Taehyung immediately goes into the bathroom, and Jimin walks into the main room. The TV is on but surprisingly, there’s no Jungkook sulking in the blankets staring at it. Jimin feels a feeling of dread seep down his spine as he surveys the empty room. 

He briskly walks over and plops the food on the desk by the TV to pick up a misplaced napkin. On it, in unmistakably Jungkook-messy handwriting is scrawled:

_Guys, if I take too long you can just go to sleep without me. Don't worry, I'll be careful. I'll meet you guys tomorrow morning, promise._

_-JK_

Before Jimin could react, Taehyung’s voice rings from the bathroom. Jimin turns to his panicked expression.

“Jimin-ah… he's gone.”

* * *

Jungkook feels stupid. His bag is slung over his shoulder, bouncing against his hip with each running step. He rushes through the cold, the Seoul night air biting at his limbs as he runs through the streets. Jimin would scold him, he really should have brought a jacket.

His hyungs’ voices in his head aside, he knows exactly where he's going. 

Up until an hour or so ago, his mind had been all over the place. He had sat in their hotel room, close to throwing up from all the anxiety pulsing through his veins.

_Had it all been fake? All really just a dream? A haunting, a phantom?_

_How could the ruins of an abandoned building be held close to his heart?_

_How could he share memories with someone who had died three years ago?_

His two best friends couldn't help him or believe a word he said, and nothing in him blamed them. He knew he sounded crazy, looked out of his mind. That was why he had to do this himself. As he ran back past the caution tape and cones into the ruins of Seonam-gu, he headed to the last place they hadn't checked.

He runs until he recognizes the familiar buildings, following the memory of Jin walking briskly along, footsteps echoing against the old brick. Finally, he stops in front of the dark alleyway. He takes a deep breath and turns on his phone flashlight, stepping into the darkness. 

A couple meters forward, he turns to meet a fence. The chain links are rusted, and he's afraid that as he pulls back the edge they’ll snap, but still he ducks his head as he slips through the opening.

Inside lie his answers.

The smeraldo blooms gaze back at him as he enters their domain, shining in the moonbeams peaking through the clouds and buildings. Jungkook smiles as he greets them hello. It seems like they haven't aged a day.

He walks into the garden, careful to step around the blooms and the weeds and the succulents, until he stands in the middle, where Jin’s quilt lay, almost all of its colors now faded away. He scans the four brick walls of the sanctuary until he finds what he's looking for.

Walking up to the wall, he wraps his hands around and pulls the brick from its place in between the vines. It takes some effort, but eventually it pops out. Dropping it to the ground, Jungkook reaches in his hand until he feels it. The envelope is soft and worn in his fingers as he pulls it from the opening. 

Taking in a deep breath, Jungkook opens it. Inside are RJ’s letter and the polaroid photo of Namjoon and Jin, Jin’s nose scrunched as a butterfly lands on his hair. Jungkook exhales and his eyes tear up.

He understands now. It was real. Every moment, every memory, every fleeting feeling Jungkook felt in Namjoon’s chest was nothing short of genuine. They had switched places, but their timelines weren't in step. Every time Jungkook switched with Namjoon, he was also going back in time _three years_. The idea was insane and ridiculous, but all at once, it made so much sense. The reason his emails didn't work, the reason his calls didn't go through. The reason Hobi’s sister held tears in her eyes when she saw Jungkook’s drawings.

Everything clicks into place, but Jungkook isn't filled with excitement or realization. What fills his stomach is nothing but a dark nauseating dread. His body shakes, his breath catches, and he falls to his knees.

The past was real, meaning the present... is real. Namjoon, Jin, Hobi, Yoongi. They're all… dead. Gone.

Each of their names on the list of victims burned into the back of Jungkook’s brain. It stings.

Jungkook’s breath deepens as his tears begin to fall.

The smell of the smeraldos make a home in his lungs, and he cries, wishing that he could have met them again under different circumstances. Not again with circumstances carrying nothing but grief, confusion, and loss.

Why would the universe bring them together like this, only to tear them apart? Why would he be cursed to share the last weeks of Namjoon’s life? Why would the universe give him that? Could he have stopped it? Could Jungkook have saved him somehow, if he had just paid more attention? 

Is Jungkook never going to be able to show Namjoon the love he had found in him?

His tears stain the polaroid of his lost friends, and his cries echo against the walls of brick and vine. He kneels and feels as if the universe is laughing at him, poor lost Jungkook, miles away from home, chasing after a ghost.

In between his tears, he almost doesn't notice when something lands on his knee.

Jungkook opens his eyes, blinking away the blur of his tears. There, sitting upon his torn jeans, is a butterfly. It's ocean blue wings sparkle in the soft light.

He remembers Jin’s words. _The Butterfly Effect. Messages sent from loved ones._ He stares at the butterfly in wonder, and a ray of hope warms his chest.

He shuts his eyes and begins to plead. To who, to what, he doesn't know.

_Please give me a second chance. Let me go back and show him, go back and save him. Please._

He breathes. In, and out again. His eyes open and he catches the butterfly as it begins to fly away, leaving its spot on his knee. He stares after it longingly, its wings of sapphire fluttering into the night.

Then a drop of water lands in his eye.

Jungkook flinches, but then feels another fall atop his hair. And another. And another. 

Suddenly it's raining, _hard_.

The drops drench his shirt and the rest of his clothes, even the outside of his bag. Jungkook feels his hair slowly fall until it clings wetly to his scalp.

He can't do anything but laugh. 

The sky opens up and lets loose, all the rain returning as if it had never left for the short time that day. Jungkook feels something in his chest lift at the sound of the storm, feels the something in the clouds pull his gaze upwards.

_You lost something, but I’ll make sure you get it back._

As the rain falls onto his face, Jungkook looks up to the clouds, and everything fades to white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/averyseptember) if you wanna talk about it, my dm's are open !! I love getting comments and dms so don't be a stranger ^-^
> 
> If you're enjoying this, please consider leaving a like and/or a retweet for this [fic twt thread](https://twitter.com/averyseptember/status/1339267264688754689?s=20) to help me spread my fic !! I would greatly appreciate it. Kudos and Comments are also super appreciated ^^
> 
> Thank you to Kayla and Morgan for being my beta readers ~


	7. Still With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3l2dgQ7b2Ycj9AWfuMgWw0?si=bBaU__iiScKMHckpN_ky-Q) I made especially for this fic.

_In a rapturous memory_

_The rain pours even when I dance alone_

_By the time this mist clears_

_I'll run to you with wet feet_

_So hug me then_

_\- “Still With You” by Jeon Jungkook -_

The rain. He’s standing in it.

The dimmed lights of a street surround him, visibility of anything further lessened by the downpouring of water all around him. He realizes he’s somewhere in the streets of Seonam-gu, the droplets soaking his clothes and his hair. The rain holds a bone-deep chill with each drop, each ice-cold tear seeping into his skin.

Jungkook doesn't know where exactly he is, how exactly he got there. He turns to survey the area, looking for any sign of life. It's dark, and the streets are empty.

Except for one figure.

He walks along the sidewalk towards the building, dressed in a dark hoodie and jeans. He steps along briskly in the rain. Jungkook chases after him, feeling the rain soak into his socks as he runs.

“No, hyung, I wouldn't dare skip evaluation, I just had to run an errand this morning. It took longer than expected so I knocked out when I got back, but I'm coming now.” Namjoon’s voice is low and shakes a little from the chill of the rain.

Jungkook knows what he's watching. Namjoon turns the corner, and Jungkook sees the lights of the BigHit building, six floors and all.

Every step feels heavier, the rain filling his shoes and bringing him close to stumbling. Jungkook reaches out for his shoulder. “Namjoon—!”

But something pulls him back, and he doesn't make contact. Namjoon doesn't react to his voice.

He pulls against the force. Whatever it is, it doesn't budge. He's trapped, watching as Namjoon approaches the building.

He struggles against the rain, the wind, and everything holding him back, strain audible in his voice as he yells out. 

“Namjoon! Stop! Don't go! Please! You'll die! You'll all die!”

After only a couple of words, his voice feels drowned out even to his own ears, barely audible above the roar of the rain. 

Namjoon steps into the building, and for a moment Jungkook can't do anything but stare after him.

Then he screams as the ground cracks open.

Everything goes black. Everything’s shaking. There's nothing he can do. He's too late. The rain goes silent. His foot slips.

Then he falls.

Air rushes past his ears. He feels his shirt wave violently in the wind, the air brushing past his chest, cool over the skin of his abdomen.

He's falling, slowly. Or not slowly at all. The complete darkness gives him no hint of where he's going, or how fast. All he knows is that it's taking him somewhere far away.

He hears the wind rush by. He hears the beating of a million wings, the impact of a million raindrops. 

But above all, he hears them.

The voices.

_“Namjoon, huh? Well you're younger than me, right? I’m Kim Seokjin, but just call me hyung.”_

They come from multiple directions, all different voices with utterings from memories long ago, memories he knows aren't his.

_“You want to be an idol? You really think you can do that? Don’t make me laugh.”_

_“You're so smart and you're wasting your talent doing what? Throwing away your exam scores? Playing boy band off in Seoul? What's wrong with you?”_

_“This demo isn't good enough yet, if you want to make it onto the album you just need to do better, frankly.”_

There’s some voices he doesn’t recognize. Some that he does.

_“I've been thinking of getting a job, in case... we never debut. I can barely dance and I'm too ugly, maybe... I'm just not cut out to be an idol.”_

_“I know, Joon-ah, I just… I don't know what I'd do if he left.”_

_“Namjoon-hyung… I have a favor to ask…”_

More and more voices echo around him. They start to overlap, and he can barely make them out.

_“If you guys aren't ready to debut within this year this company will terminate all of your contracts. Is that what you want?”_

It's deafening.

_“Can you… give Jin this letter for me? I can explain…”_

It's all so much. It's all too much.

_“Joon… the flowers… they finally bloomed… I was too late.”_

_“We can't do this! We’re just not good enough Joon-ah! We should all just go home! Can't you see that!?”_

_“Hyung… i-it's okay…”_

The yelling, the whispering. It's deafening.

_“You’ll all be okay.”_

And then he opens his eyes.

* * *

**September 12th, 2012. Late Afternoon.**

It's warm.

He sits up with a sharp gasp, his chest still tight from the dream. Quick breaths struggle to go in and out of his lungs before his throat begins to open again. As he eventually relaxes, Jungkook's vision focuses and he finally processes where he is. 

He slowly but surely takes in the familiar living room. Feels the fuzz of the blanket wrapped around him as he sits up on the couch. Raises his hand to block the light coming from the window. When he lowers it, he realizes he’s looking at the sun, orange beams peaking just above the horizon as it sets behind the distant buildings. 

He's in the Bangtan dorm. He’s alive. And now he's yelling.

He jumps off the couch and whoops, barely able to hold his happiness in, and frankly not trying to. He runs into the bathroom to find Namjoon's glasses, slipping them on and running one hand through soft (slightly damaged) purple strands, smile peaking out in the mirror as he brings up the other hand to his cheek. He presses his index into Namjoon's dimple. He laughs wetly, and stares as tears start to form in Joon's deep brown eyes.

"...Joon-ah?"

Yoongi is in the doorway, almost drowning in a large t-shirt with his hair ruffled and eyes half-closed, like he also just woke up from a nap. 

Jungkook almost sobs at the sight.

"Joon, why are you yelli—whoa whoa WHOA!”

Yoongi is up in the air and screaming, Jungkook spinning him around like a child with their plushie. Jungkook laughs and spins faster. 

This plushie, however, can yell back in protest.

"NAMJOON! PUT ME DOWN!”

Now Jin and Hobi are also in the living room, also surprised by the sudden noise. They try to calm the commotion Jungkook is causing, but can't do much as he places Yoongi down only to hug Hobi and borderline tackle Jin.

All three of Namjoon's hyungs seem shocked at this behavior, but Jungkook is too overcome with emotion to care. He buries himself into a surprised Jin's chest, and his tears flow freely. 

Jin is frozen for a second, but then Jungkook feels his huung’s hands slowly wrap around his back, pulling him closer. A sob escapes his mouth at the feeling. He feels safe. He feels _found._

Hobi laughs lightly from behind him. He feels a light pat on his back. “What's wrong, Namjoon-ah? Did you think we forgot your birthday? We already bought a cake for tonight, you know."

Jungkook shakes his head. His tears wipe onto Jin's sweater.

Jin pulls away, and then a familiar hand is at Jungkook’s cheek, a thumb brushing away his tears. Jin's smile is soft.

"What's going on, Joonie?"

Jungkook can't respond immediately. He buries back in and keeps breathing, shaking a little as each breath draws out and into the cotton over Jin’s chest. Jin coos and continues to stroke his back. 

“Shh, it's okay, it's okay. We’re right here.”

Soothing streams of calm seep into Jungkook’s spine from Jin’s hand, and his breathing begins to even. He feels the hesitation of all three of his hyung’s around him, confused on how to respond to his outburst. Despite the awkwardness, he revels in their presence, shaken by how he thought they were all long gone.

Suddenly reminded of that, he freezes, and fear crawls its way back up his vertebrae.

They are gone. Unless he does something to stop it.

He pulls back and looks straight into Jin’s concerned eyes. 

“Hyung, we can't go to evaluation tonight.”

Jin’s eyebrows, previously pulled down in concern, now twist up in confusion.

“What? Why?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath.

“Because we’re all gonna die.”

“You're not making any sense.”

He's aware of that, thank you Hobi.

“Look guys, you just have to believe me. We can't go. In fact, we should try to stop all the staff from going too.”

Jin has an eyebrow raised and a face signaling that he may think Namjoon is joking, but Yoongi isn't nearly as amused. His voice is still low and still rough from his nap.

“So you're saying if we go to evaluation tonight, the building will explode and we’ll all die.”

“No, it won't explode, it’ll just catch fire and collapse from the _impact_ of an explosion,” Jungkook corrects, “but the part where we all die? Yes, that will happen.”

Everyone is silent for a moment. 

“...okay, I'm done with this conversation.” Yoongi gets up and starts to walk back towards this room.

Jungkook reaches out a hand. “Wait! What do you mean?”

Yoongi sighs as he reaches his door and turns back. “I'm going back to sleep to be rested for tonight. We have to do well.”

“B—but we can't go.”

Yoongi glares and shifts to stand up straighter, one hand on his hip.

“I don’t know what you’re on about, but tonight could make or break our debut, Namjoon-ah. We don’t need anything getting in the way of that, especially not any random fortune telling.”

“It’s not a fortune! It’s really going to happen!”

Yoongi’s eyebrow raise hurts Jungkook, but he tries not to take it personally. “And you know this how?”

Both Jin and Hobi, who were looking between the two similar to a crowd at a tennis match, stare at Jungkook now. All three pairs of eyes make his throat tight. He had hoped it wouldn’t be this difficult, but a part of him knew it would be this way. Still, he wasn’t prepared.

“I j—just… know,” he stutters.

Yoongi sighs and shares a glance with Hobi. When Hobi turns back, there’s only pity in his eyes. Jungkook begins to feel desperate. He gets up from the couch and walks over to Yoongi in his doorway. His voice is urgent, almost aggressive.

“Hyung, you have to believe me,” he places his hands on the shorter boy’s shoulders, “I know it sounds crazy but—”

“—exactly, it sounds crazy.” An incredulous huff, and then, “Are you trying to sabotage our debut or something?”

“No! I—”

“Does this have something to do with why you left this morning?”

Jin’s voice cuts through the tension growing between Jungkook and Yoongi. He takes his hands off of Yoongi's shoulders and turns back to his other two hyungs, still standing by the couch.

“What?”

Jin’s brows are knitted with concern. “You got up and just left this morning, super early too. You said you were going to Busan.”

Something in Jungkook’s brain _ticks._ Almost cracks.

“B—Busan?”

_Tick._

“I don't know, I asked why you were leaving the bed and you just muttered ‘going to Busan’ before you closed the door.”

_Tick._

“Joon, did you really make a six-hour round trip between here and the coast? Just today? Why?”

_Tick_

Jungkook’s—no, Namjoon’s—legs are shaking. He feels like he's losing control of his body. 

“I… don’t know?”

“What do you mean you don't know?” Yoongi interjects.

_Tick._

Jungkook’s legs give and he all but collapses onto the ground. He catches himself with his arms but still lands right on his butt, air rushing out of his lungs on the impact.

_Tick, tick, tick._

_There’s a ringing… No, a voice._

It's not Jin’s but suddenly his eldest hyung is there, knelt down in front of him, face distraught with worry. He feels Yoongi’s hands on his back holding him up, and his voice comes again, any anger in it from a moment ago now dissolved.

“Namjoon, are you okay?”

When Jungkook looks up into Jin’s eyes, he’s crying. 

Not the happy tears from earlier’s reunion, but ones filled with pain, regret, loss. Sudden and _searing_ as they stream down his cheeks.

“Namjoon, what’s going on?”

_A click of a camera._

Jungkook can’t breathe. Can’t speak. He messed up. He did this, and he can't fix it. All he can do is stare into Jin’s eyes, hoping that Jin can somehow see into Jungkook’s soul the way he would see into Namjoon’s. _Please believe me_ , he begs, he yearns.

The message doesn't get through.

“Joonie, let's get you to bed, yea? You're not feeling well. You need rest for tonight.”

Jungkook’s tears don’t stop. He stutters, “W—We can’t go.”

No one responds. Yoongi starts to pick him up and bring him to a standing position, but before he can Jungkook is already pulling away and tumbling for the door. He doesn't stop for the yells that follow after him.

He finds himself in the hallway outside the dorm, and immediately turns to the right and rushes down the stairs of the building. He doesn't know where exactly he’s going, but he has to go somewhere.

He has to do something. Anything.

He makes it onto the street and turns in the direction of the company building when he hears a voice call out.

“Namjoon-ah!”

He almost tries to ignore it, but a hand on his shoulder turns him around.

He’s surprised to meet face to face with Hobi. More specifically, Hobi holding up a pair of shoes.

“You forgot these.”

Jungkook looks down to realize that he was indeed, shoeless. Namjoon’s kitty socks stare back at him.

“Oh.”

He looks back up and accepts the shoes, awkwardly pausing for a moment before bending down to slip them on. He doesn't look his hyung in the eyes.

“...Thank you, hyung.”

Hobi’s voice is even, lacking it’s usual mirth and bubbliness. However, the kindness and warmth remains.

“I told them I would come and bring you back, but something tells me that’s not going to happen.”

Jungkook stares back at Hobi, unsure what to say. Still shaken from the argument just now, he doesn't want to say something that will only make him appear even less sane.

However, Hobi’s next words make him think he’s not the only crazy one.

“Namjoon, I don't know what's going on... but do you really mean what you're saying..?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. He nods.

“Yes, hyung. I saw it with my own eyes, I swear.”

Hobi nods, and then grabs Jungkook’s hand, squeezing it.

“Yoongi-hyung and Jin-hyung are concerned, but if you really mean this, I don't think… no, I _know_ you wouldn't make some story like that up,”

Hobi’s soft smile breaks out and the dread pooled in the pit of Jungkook’s stomach begins to evaporate.

“I believe you Joon, but you have some explaining to do.”

They make their way down through the streets, and Jungkook explains everything he can. He doesn't know what Hobi will believe, but he tells him about the gasline explosion, the fires, the buildings collapsing, and the fate of the BigHit evaluation performance as a result. Hobi nods, and Jungkook wonders if he believes Namjoon is a psychic or is just extremely generous in humoring his friends.

After he finishes, Hobi stops walking. Jungkook freezes, afraid he’s pushed Hobi over the edge and lost his only support.

Hobi’s face is full of thought, and he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. 

“So you’re saying we need to find some way to get everyone in this area out and far away before 9 o’ clock.”

Jungkook swallows, and then nods. Hobi looks back at him, and for the second time, Jungkook looks on in an odd mixture of hope, confusion, and horror as his hyung’s face breaks out into a knowing smile.

“I know what to do. This way.”

Hobi leads the way and Jungkook follows silently behind. Now no longer in the lead of the situation, his mind turns back to earlier events. Specifically, when he had collapsed at Jin’s questions. It was terrifying and sudden, but something had happened. Something in Jungkook’s mind had clicked, but he himself wasn't sure exactly what had. Despite the seeming pointlessness of the idea, he tries to think harder into what he had realized. Into Jin’s questions. Into Namjoon’s actions.

_Tick._

_“You said you were going to Busan.”_

_Tick._

_“Joon, did you really make a six hour round trip between here and the coast?”_

The day he had died, Namjoon had come to Busan? Why?

_Tick._

Had Namjoon come to find Jungkook? The same way Jungkook came to find him?

_Tick, tick, tick._

But that couldn't have worked. That was three years before Jungkook even knew his name.

_There’s a ringing—no, a voice._

His name…

_A click of a camera._

… _a camera._

Jungkook screeches to a halt, and Hobi almost briskly walks off without him. He reaches behind him and pulls Namjoon’s bag to his front. He opens it and searches.

Namjoon’s camera. It's gone.

He understands.

He remembers.

* * *

**September 12th, 2012. Early Morning.**

_  
Tick, tick, tick._

Namjoon stares down at his watch as he sits on a bench on the train platform, bouncing his knee up and down. The seconds hand makes its way around the small circle in its never-ending path, and he watches it cycle for an amount of time he can't recall, quite ironically. He exhales, breath fogging in the cold air surrounding him.

The platform is unsurprisingly empty, spare a few employees and other bundled up passengers, waiting for their respective trains to arrive. Namjoon sits at the biggest platform, reserved for the trains making the most stops and longest journeys.

Nice day for a cross-country impulse trip, right?

He had woken up in a cold sweat, pressed up against something that was particularly not cold, but also sweaty. Sorry, not something—someone.

“Joonie, are you awake? What’s wrong?” Jin had stirred, voice heavy with sleep. 

Namjoon didn't process his words enough to answer. He sat up in the bed and held his hands up to his face. It was wet.

He was crying. He wasn't sure why.

Or maybe he was? All that came to mind when he tried to think of the reason why were the same words, over and over again.

_“...tell them before it’s too late, Kookie.”_

Namjoon’s chest ached. His tears flowed freely, and he wiped them aside.

Maybe he was sure why.

Without thinking, he got up and started to change out of his pajamas.

The sheets rustled. “Joon, where are you going?”

Namjoon mumbled something before even processing what Jin’s sleepy voice had said. Before he was even realizing what he was doing, the door was closing behind him.

It was only once he was on the train, kilometers passing the windows by the minute, that the second thoughts came. The idea that this could be, in fact, a bad idea. 

Did Jungkook even want to see him? How would he even find him? Does any of what he's doing right now even make sense?

His knee begins to bounce again as he stares out the window, biting his lip. He’s thankful no one sat down next to him, able to process his anxiety and nerves in peace. 

When Jungkook saw him, would he be happy? Surprised? Annoyed? Would he glare? Would he gasp? 

Would he smile?

Namjoon dwells on that for a moment. Would he smile the same way Namjoon saw it in the mirror? Laugh the same way he’d felt in his chest? Would his hair feel the same when he ran different fingers through it?

He hopes he’ll see that smile. See his nose scrunch like a bunny and his eyes light up with a crackle of fireworks. He hopes he’ll hear that laugh, hearty loud _Hah_ ’s, big and bursting but tapering off into high-pitched breathy chirps of glee.

...He doesn't dare let himself dream of the third option.

Realizing he’s losing focus, he goes back to the issue at hand: The issue of him being an hour into a three-hour train ride across the country to find someone he’s never actually met before. He knows he can't even stay in Busan for long since he has to return for evaluation later tonight, so in reality he has only a couple of hours to 1) find Jungkook, 2) say what he needs to say to Jungkook, and 3) leave without embarrassing himself.

Although the first already seems to be a near-impossible task, the second and third are the _real_ problems. He sinks further into his cushioned seat—comfy but a little stuffy—as he considers possible configurations of words he could start with in order to avoid pure humiliation when he finally _did_ find Jungkook.

_“Hey, bet you didn't expect to see me here! Surprise!” A metaphorical burst of confetti goes off behind him._

No. Too aggressive, too eager. Need something cooler, more aloof.

_He peels from the shadows, hat tipped down and covering his eyes. Cue dark rose petals and his smooth voice:_

_“Yah, Jungkook-ah. You lost?”_

No. Too extreme. Too _tsundere_. Jungkook watches anime, so he might be into that, but it's still too risky.

_“Hey, it's me, Namjoon! The guy who was like… inside your body…”_

He somehow sinks even deeper into the seat, the frame of it groaning from the pressure of Namjoon’s shame.

He’ll figure it out in the moment, probably.

When he arrives in Busan his watch tells him it's about 9:30 AM, so the train station is fairly crowded as he makes his way off the train. Adults, students, and children alike filter past him as he makes his way through the large station, past multiple cafés and fast-food restaurants as part of the terminal. 

He steps out onto the street and takes in the weather. It's not sunny, the clouds overcast and acting as a diffuser for the sunlight, casting the outside with a cool almost bluish-white lighting.

He again realizes he has no idea what the _fuck_ he's doing here.

Well, that’s untrue. He knows why he came, he knows what pulled him away from his sheets and Jin’s bedhead. The words he woke up to have been echoing around in his head ever since he stepped out of his room.

_Tell them before it's too late, Kookie._

What had Taehyung meant when he said that to Jungkook? Why would Jungkook be acting the way he said, mind always off somewhere else, missing something…

Or someone?

There's an idea. A feeling. A small inkling, a small _hope_ in the back of his mind that stays there, a majority of Namjoon's brain attempting to ignore it.

It seems his mind isn't much of a democracy, because here he is, walking into a city he's never stepped foot in to _tell him before it's too late._

What exactly he needs to tell Jungkook, he isn't sure. All he knows for sure is that deep down he feels that he has to see him, has to be _with_ him, as simply himself, even if just for a moment.

He walks aimlessly around the city for a bit, slightly overwhelmed from suddenly being in an unfamiliar place. Well, not particularly unfamiliar anymore, but to his own body that's so used to the cigarette smoke and smog of Seoul, the ocean breeze flowing through the streets and bustle of Busan leaves a pleasant feeling as it fills his lungs.

He then realizes that he's not completely clueless when it comes to searching for Jungkook. It's a Wednesday, and they've memorized each other's weekly schedules, so finding him should be easy. _Interrupting_ his schedule would be the hard part.

He returns to the metro and takes a line running down to Jungkook’s university campus. He walks comfortably across the campus, but gets lost as he approaches Jungkook’s class. A statue he used to use as a reference seems to have been taken down. 

On top of that, when he makes it to DSGN 106B, the classroom is empty. Namjoon was hoping to sit down next to him in lecture and scare him or something, but he pouts at the empty hall, eyebrows creased in confusion.

He wanders around the campus for about another hour, checking the places he knows Jungkook would frequent but to no avail. He stops by the café on campus he would study at with Jimin, and orders a caramel macchiato for himself. In a sudden spark of courage, he also orders a sweet frappe for Jungkook. When he gets both, he tries Jungkook’s to make sure they included the extra chocolate syrup.

There's nothing wrong with it, but it doesn't taste the way he remembers.

After more time wandering campus with no Jungkook in sight, Namjoon begins to lose hope. He takes the bus and decides to check out the areas near the university, and eventually finds himself at the mall The Golden Boys would busk at. Namjoon’s macchiato is long since finished and disposed of, and Jungkook’s drink is already room temperature, Namjoon sipping at it on occasion, frowning.

The mall is crowded, the lunch rush beginning to build as families and couples mill around the food court to buy meals from the various booths. The outdoor seating is all but full, the walkways almost just as packed. Namjoon has a little bit of a headache from trying to process as many passerbys as he can, in the hope one is familiar.

Walking along, he spots a little Ryan plushie dressed in a raincoat out on display in front of a pop-up store. His mood immediately lifts, and he pulls his camera out of his bag, bringing the viewfinder up to his eye and snapping a photo.

Then he hears it.

It’s soft and distant, almost dismissable amongst the noise and bustle of the mall’s crowd. Nonetheless, it catches his ear, and doesn’t let go.

The sound of a guitar. 

Namjoon lowers his camera and turns toward the sound, breath stolen from his chest for just a moment. All he can see are the shuffling of the shoppers, but when he peers through the spaces between them, he sees it. _Him._

Namjoon takes a step, then another, and another, until he’s pushing through the crowd, person after person until—

Jungkook’s hair falls gently over his forehead, so much so that Namjoon can’t see his eyes as he looks down at his guitar. He’s dressed in a black hoodie and black jeans, with black shoes (Namjoon almost laughs at his own lack of surprise). He’s sitting up on a high stool and there’s a mic stand propped up in front of him, amp on the floor to his right. Jimin and Taehyung are nowhere to be seen, so Jungkook’s voice rings out above his guitar on its own.

_We laugh together, we cry together_

_These simple feelings were everything I had_

_When will it be?_

_If I see you again_

_I will look into your eyes_

_And say, I missed you_

Namjoon stands there, the only one among the crowd to stop and watch him. He’s singing a song Namjoon hasn’t heard before, but its lyrics cut deep into his chest. With Jungkook in front of him, something in his chest begins to rise, heart beating a little faster, a little warmer. His eyes almost water, but surprisingly, not from sadness. As Jungkook finishes the song, Namjoon almost can’t contain his smile.

He’s not sure what prompts him to do this, but his camera is still in hand, so he raises it, crouches down a bit to get a good angle, and points.

_Click._

Jungkook startles slightly at the sound and turns to him, and even through the viewfinder Namjoon can see his wide Bambi-eyes shine at him. He lowers the camera and flashes Jungkook the biggest smile he thinks he’s ever smiled, eyes squinting and dimples aflame.

When he opens his eyes again, however, Jungkook just stares back.

“...Did you just take a picture of me?”

Namjoon's mind stutters for a moment, but then he stands up straight from his crouched position and clears his throat. _Fuck, um..._

He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. “Aha… yea, I thought it would be a cool way to say hi and uh… you uh… look nice.”

**_Fuck._ **

Blood rushes to Namjoon’s face, and doesn’t leave. He looks away from Jungkook’s wide, wide eyes and down at the ground. All the lines he rehearsed on the train are nowhere to be found in his mind, and all he hears in his thoughts are sounds reminiscent of a fax machine and a running garbage disposal. His heart is beating so hard, it feels like it’s right between his ears.

Somewhere in the noise he finds the strength to continue.

He looks back up. “But uh.... hi, Jungkook.”

Despite all his nerves, despite his embarrassment, when he looks up, he sees those eyes again. There are parts of Jungkook that seem a little different from the outside, but his eyes… are simply just as Namjoon remembers. Deep and wide and curious, dark brown oceans, adorned with galaxies full of stars that would rival those shining against the night sky. 

However, it's still midday, and the clouds overhead hide the sun as well as the stars. The ones in Jungkook’s eyes shine, but something in them shifts as Jungkook tilts his head.

“Sorry, do I know you?”

Namjoon’s stomach drops. 

He stammers before his mind can even process the weight of Jungkook’s confusion.

“I—Uh, y—yea, it's me. From Seoul.”

No confetti, no rose petals. His half-assed answer does nothing to wipe the confusion from Jungkook’s questioning eyes. A knot forms in Namjoon’s chest as he begins to panic slightly.

Jungkook’s eyebrow raises, and the sight only makes Namjoon feel more sick. “Sorry, I don't believe that we’ve met before…”

Jungkook shifts in the stool, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. Discomforted by the conversation, by the photo, by _Namjoon._

Namjoon has to look away, look down again. His mind is racing now.

_What is this? He doesn't know me? He's mad and pretending? He doesn't wanna see me..?_

Jungkook just stares awkwardly as Namjoon stands in front of him now, head hung down.

_Was this a mistake?_

“J-Jungkook-ah…”

One last time, he looks up into those eyes, but the sight is slightly blurred as he feels his own eyes watering.

He doesn't understand what's going on and can tell Jungkook doesn't either, but all he feels in his chest is _hurt._

“...don't you remember me?”

Despite Namjoon trying to hold them in, Jungkook clearly reacts to seeing his tears, stammering a bit, guilt plaguing his features. It's enough of an answer on its own.

“Oh uh… did we have class together sometime? Or maybe you're from the dance studio? I'm sorry I—”

“—No, it's okay.”

Jungkook freezes at Namjoon’s interruption.

“I—I’m sorry, I must be mistaken. Sorry for bothering you.”

His mind is now blank as he begins to retreat into himself, almost immediately fleeing away and back into the crowd. Before he goes, he decides he wants to do one last thing, but his hands feel cold, so much so that he feels like he can't control his fingers.

“U—Uh, j—just, take this. I'm sorry for taking a photo of you.”

He tries to pull the photo from the camera’s printer slot, but for some ungodly reason, it hasn't come out all the way and seems jammed. He struggles for a moment but all his brain keeps repeating is _flight, flee, run,_ so he ends up just placing the whole camera, photo still sticking out, on the ground in front of Jungkook.

“H—Here.”

“What? The camera?”

“J—Just, here.”

Finally, he turns to leave, everything in his brain, his heart, his whole body _aching_ with regret. He never should have come. Never should have hoped.

“W—Wait!”

He freezes after a step, and for a second thinks to wipe the tears off his cheeks before turning.

_When had they begun to flow?_

He doesn't turn yet, but his pause is enough to prompt Jungkook to continue. 

“...What’s your name?”

Namjoon looks over his shoulder, and despite the light of day, still sees the stars glimmer.

“Namjoon. Kim Namjoon.”

And then he disappears into the crowd, a galaxy-eyed boy staring after him.

* * *

**September 12th, 2012. Night.**

  
Jungkook sits still, mind overwhelmed from the epiphany.

He remembers the camera. He remembers taking it to a shop to get it fixed. Remembers taping the wrinkled polaroid into one of his older journals. He remembers how he kept the camera on him always, just in case its owner ever came back.

Why hadn't he remembered the lost boy that had left it to him?

It's ridiculous. Ironic, horribly so. How could he have forgotten? How could he have been so stupid?

“Namjoon-ah.”

Jungkook startles, looking up to the uncharacteristically serious face of Hobi.

“You okay? We’re set up.”

Jungkook processes for a second, but nods firmly.

They're in the bakery Hobi works at, after Hobi led him there, devious smile on his face. 

Their plan is simple: blow it up.

_“You really wanna set a fire in your workplace? What about the owners?”_

_“The owner of this place is a young rich snobby asshole who only franchised this bakery to steal recipes and profit against the smaller local business around here. Long story short, eat the rich or blow up their property but due to the roots of our capitalistic society and class gap they'll be fine.”_

_Jungkook had just nodded. Hobi had been spending a lot of time with Yoongi, obviously._

_...But then something else came to mind._

_“W-Wait! What about your job?”_

_“I don't need it.”_

_“You don't? but what about your backu—”_

_Hobi had looked him right in the eye fiercely._

_“I don't need it.”_

_Jungkook had considered his answer for a second. And then smiled._

_Hobi returned it brightly._

Apparently, Hobi had seen in a movie that if you put aerosol containers in an oven for long enough, they'll create a small explosion. 

_“I searched it on Naver while we walked here and it works!”_

_“I'm pretty sure that's not something you want in your search history, hyung.”_

_“There are worse things, it's okay.”_

_“..?”_

Now that the ovens were heated, Jungkook looked down at Namjoon’s watch. _8:45. Not much time left._

“Joon-ah, just one last time.”

Jungkook looks up into Hobi’s eyes.

“You're sure that everyone is in danger?”

Jungkook gulps, but nods yet again.

“Yes, hyung. One-hundred percent. People will die if we do nothing.”

Hoseok searches his eyes for a second. Jungkook holds his gaze.

“Are you ready, hyung?”

Hoseok, usually characterized by his intense fears of spiders and roller coasters and the Bong-Cheon-Dong ghost, held a surprising amount of determination in his face. Guess when it came to helping people, Hobi was always the most courageous on the inside.

His smile, usually filled with so much sun and warmth, glinted with something more.

_Flames._

“Let’s make some chaos, Joon-ah.”

Jungkook quickly turns on all of the stoves and burners in the kitchen but doesn't let the lighters start the flames, the gas flowing freely into the room. Hoseok opens one of the heated ovens and quickly tosses a bunch of aerosol cans in: Namjoon’s sunscreen, cooking oil, air freshener, anything they could find. Quickly, they dash out of the store and carry out their plan. Jungkook sprints to the right, Hoseok to the left. 

Jungkook bursts into the first open business he sees, a crowded fast food place, screaming _bloody murder._ He searches for a second amongst the busy crowd of customers, finds the fire alarm, and runs towards it, yanking it down when it's in reach. A high pitched bell rings out, startling everyone in the store. Jungkook runs out the door.

He's about to make his way to the second building when he hears it. The ground shakes slightly, and the sound is unmistakable. He turns around right as it happens.

_Fuck, we've really done it now._

With a large _boom,_ Jungkook watches as an explosion bursts open the windows of the bakery. Orange flames glow from within, reflecting against the shards of broken glass now scattered against the pavement.

He watches for a second in shock, but the ringing out of another alarm across the street brings him back to his senses. _Hobi._

They can do this. They can save everyone.

He runs into the next store, a tofu house, and screams at all the customers who are sitting in shock over their banchan, presumably from the explosion outside just now. Jungkook walks up to and pulls the fire alarm.

“Fire! Everyone evacuate the area, **_now!”_ **

Minutes later, Jungkook is breathing heavily, still sprinting through the streets from building to building, making sure everyone is evacuating out of the buildings and away from danger. To his relief, the crowds in the streets are slowly but surely starting to mill away towards the outskirts of the district, away from where he thinks the epicenter of the explosion will be. He hears countless alarms spring up even in the places Hobi or him haven't set them off, so he knows their plan is going accordingly.

_They're doing it. It's working._

Someone bumps into him as he's running, and when he turns, Hobi is running alongside him, smile assured. 

“Everything going good?”

Hobi chuckles. “Swimmingly.”

They have one last destination: the BigHit building. Most of the buildings that Jungkook remembers were collapsed were near the bakery, so they should all be clear by now. They just have to get to their building and make sure everyone there has evacuated as well, before fleeing the area. Jungkook checks his watch, and _fuck._ He begins to run faster, pushing Namjoon’s long, lanky legs to their limit. Hobi pants behind him as he keeps up. They have time, but just barely enough.

 _A right, a left, another right._ Past the kind mother’s florist shop, past the convenience stores, all buildings empty with the roads now crowded with confused people. His legs burn but he doesn't stop.

Until all of a sudden, he does. His legs seize up but he stands still in the street, breathing heavily. He looks up.

The lights in the BigHit building are still on, but to his relief, Jungkook watches as the last of a crowd mills out of the entrance. Trainer Im is complaining loudly as she walks, Trainer Choi trying to calm her down. Bang PD is standing at the door, closing it when the last person passes. Hobi sighs in relief beside him.

Jungkook almost does the same, but something stops him. He scans the crowd, and sees many familiar faces. Except one.

He sees Yoongi, standing slouched among the crowd on the street, hands in his pocket, clearly annoyed by the situation. His heart starts to beat faster, and there's an odd feeling in his stomach, so Jungkook grabs Hobi’s arm and starts to push them through the crowd to their hyung.

“Yoongi-hyung! Where’s Jin!?”

Yoongi hears Jungkook’s voice and notices them barreling towards him, eyes growing wide.

Then, the ground cracks open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi !! I am so sorry I think this chapter was my longest period between updates, I hope you'll forgive me for leaving you with that cliffhanger for so long, cause now I present you with... another cliffhanger (oops).
> 
> Also ! It seems I got a lot of new readers after getting onto the "bts ao3 tags" account for my Namjoon rain tag (lol) so, if you came from there, hello !! Thank you for checking out my fic and I hope you like it so far. All of the new kudos, comments, and bookmarks make me so happy !!
> 
> Here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/averyseptember) if you wanna talk about it, my dm's are open !! I love getting comments and dms so don't be a stranger ^-^
> 
> If you're enjoying this, please consider leaving a like and/or a retweet for this [fic twt thread](https://twitter.com/averyseptember/status/1339267264688754689?s=20)  
> to help me spread my fic !! I would greatly appreciate it. 
> 
> Thank you to Kayla and Morgan for being my beta readers ~
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/averyseptember)  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/averyseptember)  
> [fic thread](https://twitter.com/averyseptember/status/1339267264688754689?s=20)  
>   
> 


	8. forever rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3l2dgQ7b2Ycj9AWfuMgWw0?si=bBaU__iiScKMHckpN_ky-Q) I made especially for this fic.

_When it rains I_

_Get a little feeling that I do have a friend_

_Keeps knocking on my windows_

_Asks me if I’m doing well_

_And I answer, I’m still a hostage of life_

_I don’t live because I can’t die_

_But I’m chained to something_

_\- “forever rain” by RM -_

The thunder roars. It startles him awake.

He opens his eyes, but immediately shuts them as water falls into them, making him flinch and raise his hand over his head to shield his face. His sleeve is wet... and he belatedly realizes his _everything_ is wet. It's raining. Pouring, even.

Keeping his eyes closed, Namjoon sits up, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His hands feel that he was lying on something soft, but equally as wet as his clothes. His head is throbbing, and the chill of the rainwater clings to his skin.

He reaches up to wipe some water off his face, and is then able to open his eyes again. When he does, however, he blinks a few times in confusion.

He's in RJ's garden. He recognizes it almost instantly, even through the rain and the darkness. The lights from the highway above illuminate the nook slightly, and Namjoon looks around him, to find himself alone on the quilt, surrounded by only the now wet blossoms. Some of the plants struggle to stand upright against the torrent, but Namjoon finds he doesn't really mind the downpour. There’s more concerning things at stake.

When he reaches up to push wet hair from his forehead, he realizes that the hair isn't _his_ hair. There's a puddle among some of the flowers, and when he leans over it, through the rippling reflection he can make out the familiar face.

He's in Jungkook's body, but things don't add up.

What is Jungkook doing _here?_

It's nighttime, in the middle of a storm, and Jungkook is all the way across the country away from home.

He isn't even wearing a _jacket._

Namjoon shivers, his arms clutching at each other and rubbing up and down in a poor attempt to create warmth. Before the millions of questions in his mind can run off into the clouds, he decides the first thing to do would be to get Jungkook (read: himself) somewhere safe and warm, before he gets sick.

He picks himself up off the quilt, holding a hand over his forehead in order to keep more raindrops from poking at his eyes. He looks around again for a short moment, offering the smeraldo blossoms a quick greeting and before making his way to the chainlink fence to make an exit.

He manages to push aside the fence, duck under, and take a couple of steps out of the alleyway, before he stops in his tracks.

This isn't right.

This... isn't the Seoul he knows.

None of the streetlights are on, but even in the darkness of the rainy night he can tell this isn't his neighborhood, isn't his home.

Directly outside the alleyway he can see that all the surrounding buildings are deserted, and most are severely damaged. Windows are shattered. Walls have crumbled, and rubble and debris litter the parts of the streets and the sidewalk. There's cracks embedded in the pavement and the asphalt.

It's then he remembers.

It's a flash.

He remembers the floor rumbling, remembers the lights going out, remembers the ceiling caving in.

He remembers making eye contact with Jin, reaching out for him.

That moment, he remembers everything going dark.

Namjoon's knees shake. He barely takes in a breath before they give in, his butt hitting the ground, knocking the breath out of him again. His hand comes to his mouth.

_In that moment... did I...?_

He sits there for a moment, mind going haywire, when all of it is suddenly interrupted.

Through the drone of the rain, he hears a sound. Back in the alleyway.

No, not just a sound.

_A voice._

* * *

It could’ve been seconds, could’ve been minutes before he comes to.

Jungkook coughs. On smoke, on dust, he doesn’t know. His eyes are shut tight, and he can’t hear anything but ringing.

“—amjoon! Get up! Please!”

Then the sounds around him rush back into clarity, and he feels his face pressed against the asphalt.

There's yelling, and there’s countless pairs of shoes running past his face on the pavement. Everything around him is clouded in dust, almost as if a fog of gravel has swept the city. Flecks of orange blurs peek from deep within the clouds.

 _Flames_.

“Namjoon-ah? Are you okay?”

Jungkook’s muscles ache, but he slowly pushes his torso up off the ground, and eventually shifts into a sitting position, leaning back on his hands. Yoongi and Hoseok are knelt beside him, their faces strained with worry. As he wipes dirt off his chin and looks into their eyes, he sees some of it dissolve. 

They’re in the middle of the street, amongst several empty cars. People are rushing past them, hurriedly making their way up the street and towards the outskirts of the district. The panicked chatter of the passersbys mixes with distant sirens and… what he registers as _screams._ There's not many, but the way they pierce through the chaos is unmistakable.

They make him feel sick. 

_...Was it not enough?_

“What happened?” Jungkook manages to form a coherent question through his dizzying headache.

Despite the chaos around them, Hoseok’s face is a source of stability and comfort. He cups Jungkook’s cheek in his hand.

“You were right, there was a bigger explosion. It was like an earthquake, and a bunch of places set fire. And our building…”

Hoseok looks up to somewhere behind Jungkook. When Jungkook turns around to see what he's looking at, a hauntingly familiar sight greets him.

The previously six-story building is reduced to a mere three. The small fires that he can see through some of the surrounding buildings' windows don't seem to have spread to what's left of BigHit Entertainment, but the shattered glass and rubble that now surround the entrance show that enough destruction has already been done.

Another wave of nausea washes over him as he raises his hand to his mouth. Before he can _actually_ vomit, Hoseok's hands wrap around his shoulders and turn him back to face him. His eyes are wide, seemingly with fear, but as Jungkook fully takes them in, he sees _hope_.

"But it's okay! No one was in the building. You did it! They all ran off just now, but I told PD-nim we'd meet him by the street market plaza in a bit. Are you okay to walk?"

Hoseok's words are comforting but also spoken way too fast, and Jungkook's head is still spinning like a record. The song playing is distorted, muffled, and he can't quite make it out.

"But... there's still screaming... and..." he mumbles, voice faint but somehow heavy on his tongue.

Then Yoongi comes into view, and even amongst all the jagged edges of the crumbling buildings, his face is round and soft.

"Joon-ah? Did you hear him? Can you walk?"

That's when the record scratches to a stop. He sits up straight and grabs onto Yoongi's shoulders.

"Hyung! _Where's Jin!?_ "

Yoongi pales at the blurted question. Jungkook feels Hoseok grab his arm, also stunned by his sudden movement. Jungkook's hold on Yoongi doesn't loosen, and his eyes hold Yoongi's stare as well.

Yoongi hesitates, but his face eventually falls.

"I-I don't know. He disappeared from the dorm and didn't show up for evaluation either. I thought you three were together."

Jungkook's hands on Yoongi loosens, and his vision starts to blur. The noise all around them is deafened with static, and somehow Jungkook ends up pressed to Yoongi's chest. Arms wrap around him and he can hear his voice whisper into Namjoon's hair.

"I'm sure he's fine, but we have to go, Joon."

 _No._ Something in the bottom of his stomach rejects Yoongi's words, as much as he wants to let the two pairs of arms around him lift him up and lead him to safety. His mind stops spinning and begins to sprint, kilometers rushing by with the seconds.

The static grows louder. He can't do this. He wishes he were Namjoon, or Jin, or anyone else that could save all of them cause _he,_ Jungkook, can't do this. He failed once and he's failing again. He just wants to keep Namjoon's—no, not just Namjoon's— _his_ hyungs safe, but he's lost.

_Where is he? Hyung, where are you?_

It's amongst the static that he hears it.

He hears the wind rush by. He hears the beating of a million wings, the impact of a million raindrops.

He hears the click of a camera. The strum of a guitar. The voice carrying a melody of loss.

He sits up straight and Hobi and Yoongi stare at him, eyes wide.

_Are you there?_

"Joon?" Hobi questions.

"I have to go."

"What? Uh—yes, you're right we have to go." Yoongi starts to get up onto his feet. There's no more people passing by them now, most having already escaped the area.

"—No I have to—" It hits him that he doesn't know how to explain it in words, as he can't explain it to himself either.

He decides that instead of words, he grabs both of his hyung's hands. Tries his best to alternate between their eyes as he hopes Namjoon's voice carries his sincerity. His love.

"I... I'm sorry."

And then he's on his feet, sprinting into the clouds and ashes. Yoongi screams after him, but it's drowned out by the rush of blood past his ears as he jumps into the flames.

It's not as horrible as he imagined, but it's horrible enough. Every street he turns into is shrouded in dust and smoke, and almost every other building has a fire, the size of which only grow as he runs further into the district. The electricity must have cut out because none of the buildings have lights on, and the streetlamps are out. Visibility is scarce, and he almost runs into a young girl who emerges from a cloud of smoke, holding a piece of cloth up to cover her mouth as she stumbles. She runs past him and Jungkook turns.

"Take a right! And then left at the next street and keep going!!" Namjoon's deep voice bellows out through the chaos.

She turns and faces him, eyes wide open with blond strands framing them. They stare at each other for a moment before she turns the corner and follows his words.

Jungkook hopes they both get out of this alive.

Jungkook takes off running again after that, his legs burning but nowhere close to stopping. At some point he almost feels like he could outrun a firetruck that eventually zooms past him, sirens blaring. The further in he runs the more he ends up having to maneuver around parts of the sidewalk, avoiding rubble, glass shards, and the flames themselves.

It's barely a minute more of sprinting before he's catching his breath, standing outside a familiar alleyway in unfamiliar circumstances. He's relieved to see that there's no fire in the alleyway or too nearby, but he knows that won't be true for long. After the moment's respite he dashes into the alleyway and throws his hands to open up and peel back the fence.

As he does, for that split-second he remembers the last time he was here. Wonders about the power this place holds. Wonders what he'll find inside.

The split-second ends, and he enters to find exactly what—who—he's looking for.

Jin is lying in the center of the garden, splayed out on the blanket. Outside of this given moment and circumstance, he would almost look peaceful. Jungkook's breath catches as he hops over the flowerbeds to his hyung.

Even in the dimmed orange lighting of the night of flames, the blue and purple blooms shine in the wisps of moonlight that shine through the smoke, greeting him hello. Welcoming him back.

When he reaches the quilt he kneels down to Jin’s side and closely inspects his face, hovering over his hyung. He’s not conscious, but Jungkook can feel the warmth of his face when he puts his hand to Jin’s cheek. The rise and fall of Jin’s chest brings relief to his own, Jungkook letting out a small sigh. 

There’s some ash on his face and he seems a little beat up, but he’s okay. He’s _alive._

Jungkook wraps his arms around his hyung and pulls him close, for a moment almost crying again. Jin’s breath stutters, but he doesn't wake at Jungkook’s touch. 

“Hyung! Wake up! Are you okay?” Jungkook pulls back and shakes him a bit, but Jin’s eyes remain closed. Jungkook bites his lip and tries again, still careful not to be too rough with him. 

It's then that he hears a loud screech.

He turns to the sound on instinct, pulling Jin into a protective embrace in his arms. He looks up, and finds that one of the buildings sheltering the nook has a fire raging on its rooftop. He hears another series of cracks that sounds like something breaking or falling over, and suddenly he sees debris falling from the rooftop. _Flaming debris._

Jungkook gasps and ducks down, but luckily none of the debris lands too close to them, the _snaps_ as the pieces land coming from a couple meters behind Jungkook. However, when he sits up again and turns to inspect the impact, he finds the flaming pieces of wood have fallen near the brick walls, the fire now spreading to the vines growing up into them.

 _Fuck._ Their safety here is suddenly timed, a matter of seconds rather than minutes. Jungkook silently apologizes as he starts to shake Jin a little more vigorously, but still the older boy remains unresponsive. His panic slowly growing, he decides to just scoop up his hyung by the legs and the back to attempt to carry him bridal style. This doesn't go as well as he hopes.

Jin is essentially dead weight, and even with all of Namjoon’s physical training, picking up the broad-shouldered boy is a struggle. His whole body is already sore and fatigued, and his muscles cry out in pain as he tries to deadlift Jin’s body. He groans as he lifts, and the sound of his strain mixes with the growing crackling of spreading flames around them. He manages to pull him up, Jungkook trying to stand with the added weight one foot at a time. He gets his balance, and with a sharp inhale, turns to the exit. He pales at the sight that meets him.

A piece of wood had landed right on the fence and split into two, it's blackened and glowing pieces littering the brick tile between the two boys and the exit. The vines growing into the fence as well as its windscreen are fully aflame, burning away quickly and fiercely. The flames spread through the vines and tarp quickly, and in the couple moments he had taken to lift Jin, the walls surrounding the entrance of the garden were set abright with the orange light of flame. Jungkook freezes. 

Even standing a safe distance away, Jungkook could feel the heat lick at his face. It stings, but he doesn't look away.

They're trapped. They're doomed. He looks up to see if anyone, anything that can help them is _anywhere_ , only to find more of the rooftops surrounding them aflame. Jungkook drops to his knees and lowers Seokjin back down onto the blanket, still attempting to jostle him awake. He begins to scream as nothing works. 

“Hyung! Please! I can’t get us out! Please, wake up!”

His voice grows more hoarse with every plea. His body aches more with every movement. He feels the heat grow in the air around them, and doesn't look up. 

Jungkook ducks down over Jin and buries his head into his sweater, feeling his tears wipe away into the fabric over his hyung’s chest. 

“Please… hyung, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I just wanted to save you.”

The flames spark. They hiss. They _burn._ Jungkook’s voice is barely above a whisper.

_“Namjoon… I'm so scared. I'm sorry.”_

He feels nothing but heat. Nothing but fear.

Then something lands in his hair.

Jungkook flinches, lifting his head up from Jin’s chest, reaching to the back of his head at the sensation. When he pulls his hand back to look at it, he can see and feel… that it's wet. He blinks.

And then there's another drop. And another. And another.

There above Seoul, above the flames and under the moon, the clouds open up, and it begins to rain.

Jungkook looks up into the sky, the droplets rushing past his face. He hears the rain make contact with the flames around him, and hears the _sizzle_ as the two meet and turn to nothing more than steam. The flames begin to die. He exhales.

Then he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns, expecting to find Jin. The smile he finds is someone else entirely.

It's then that Jungkook finds _himself,_ soaked and standing in the rain over Namjoon, a hand on his shoulder, the other boy still knelt on the quilt beside a peacefully sleeping Jin. 

A smile, which he saw for just a moment on his own, now rests lightly on Namjoon’s lips as their eyes meet. The raindrops run down Namjoon’s face, run down his neck, run down his chest.

“Jungkook-ah.”

Tears run down Jungkook’s cheeks. 

He falls to his knees, and then dives into Namjoon’s chest, fists clenching at his sweater. 

“Namjoon… it’s… it’s really you.” His voice shakes, and Jungkook almost wonders how his eyes hold so many tears.

Jungkook feels arms slowly wrap around his back, and Namjoon _chuckles_ , the _bastard_. “You came to find me, huh? How did that go?”

Jungkook pulls away to find Namjoon’s mirth filled smile, dimples peeking out at full force.

Jungkook wants to _punch_ them.

He settles for a slight shove, letting go of Namjoon’s shirt. Raindrops fly from his hand at the push. “ _Asshole_! Of course I came to find you! You came to find me too! Before I even knew your name! I-I didn't know you yet...”

Jungkook is so emotional, so _overwhelmed_. His eyes fall to the ground as he rambles, tears still flowing freely.

“—I still can't believe I didn't realize this, it was so _so_ obvious! Us being three years apart explains everything! I searched Seoul for hours and I couldn't find anything about any of you guys online, my calls didn't go through, and your email didn't work, and it explains so many weird things about our switches! I never recognized parts of Seoul, and also this just explains why all the songs in your playlists are so _old_ and—”

But then, Jungkook’s mouth can't keep running, because there's another one pressed against his.

He internally gasps but then Namjoon’s hand is wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer, and Jungkook feels something in his chest _flutter_. Namjoon’s lips are chapped, but soft, and despite the abruptness of the kiss, everything he gives is there for Jungkook to take. To hold. 

Before Jungkook can completely process what’s happening, Namjoon is pulling away. The raindrops fall between them lightly as he grins.

“What happened to ‘ _I’ve read enough webtoons to know what’s going on_ ’?” Namjoon quips.

Jungkook just stares at him, wide-eyed, slack-jawed, and red-cheeked. 

A beat of silence. Then Namjoon bursts into laughter.

He clutches his stomach, leaning forward and crashing his head into Jungkook’s chest. Doubling over, he begins to shake with each breathy laugh.

Jungkook is stunned for another moment… but before he knows it, he’s giggling as well.

“So, I guess you should be calling me _hyung,_ right?”

“I’m sorry, you and Hobi-hyung did _what!?”_

Jungkook explains to Namjoon everything that had happened since Jungkook woke up. The fight with Yoongi, the bakery, the plan, _everything_. 

“We just um… created a small diversion.”

Namjoon stares wide-eyed. Jungkook somehow blushes and blanches simultaneously. He shakes his head.

“Also, um… I have to give you something.”

Still sitting in the rain, both of their clothes are now soaked ( _all_ , if you count Jin, who still has decided not to join the encounter). Jungkook reaches to his side and opens the flap of his messenger bag. Inside the contents are fortunately dry, and he pushes past his journal… to pull out _Namjoon’s_ camera.

“I kept this, for three years… hoping one day I’d be able to give it back to its owner.”

Jungkook reaches out to grab Namjoon’s hand, placing the camera in it. Namjoon places another hand over Jungkook’s and tightens a hold over his fingers.

Jungkook looks up into his eyes, and Namjoon sees them again. _The stars._

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize it was you.”

Namjoon almost responds, but then their linked hands start to _glow._

Jungkook startles, one of his hands pulling away.

“What’s happening?”

Namjoon looks down to find the camera, enveloped in a bluish glow between their hands. It glows brighter and brighter and…

“I don’t know, I—”

It flashes. Both of them have to close their eyes and turn away at the brightness.

They’re still for a moment, everything quiet except the patter of the rain against the smeraldos.

When they turn back to each other. They both look down to find the camera gone, and in its place, atop Namjoon’s hand resting in Jungkook’s, sits... a butterfly. Its blue wings sparkle with small drops of rain.

Namjoon scoffs, shell-shocked. He looks up to see Jungkook’s reaction, but…

Jungkook just looks scared.

“Jungkook, what’s wrong?”

Jungkook feels faint.

He feels it, deep in his soul. Deep in the rain falling around them, deep in the clouds. Deep in the beating of the butterflies’ wings as it takes off, fluttering between them and up into the sky.

His time here is almost done.

“It's... like what Jin said… _the butterflies._ ”

_“One little butterfly in the past could set off a series of completely universe-changing events.”_

Namjoon was safe. Alive. Jungkook had done the impossible, rewritten the past.

He supposes it only makes sense that his future could be rewritten as well.

“What? The butterflies?”

Jungkook shifts, grabbing both of Namjoon’s arms, wrapping his fingers around his wrists. Namjoon’s fingers wrap around Jungkook’s, and squeeze tight.

“I can’t explain it, but… I think… I have to go. I think... I only have a few moments left.”

Namjoon’s face scrunches in confusion. Jungkook wishes he could wipe it away, smooth out all the wrinkles until the only shadows left on his face were the dips of his dimples.

“What? No, I still have so much to tell you.”

“I know… I-I wish I could stay… but… I don’t think I can, and you have to get Jin to safety.”

Everything is happening too fast. The raindrops fall around them too fast, the blossoms around them sway too fast in the soft light of the moon through the clouds. Jungkook sees something in his bag start to glow, and he knows he’s soon to follow. The seconds start to count down.

“But... hyung, let me say this.” Jungkook’s voice comes out urgent, pleading.

Namjoon looks up and Jungkook meets his eyes. There’s tears forming at the edges of them.

“Namjoon… I think you're more loved than you know.”

“What? What do you mean? Don’t say things like that, just stay, please.” Namjoon’s voice cracks.

Jungkook wishes he could slow time. Wishes he could slow the rain, slow the rhythm of its drops in RJ’s garden. Wishes he could have the time to find all the right words, tell Namjoon all the things he learned, all the things he loved. For now, these words, these last couple seconds will have to do.

“You… you always said that you enjoyed being me, that you enjoyed being _someone else,_ but… hyung… I don't think you realize how important and great and wonderful _being you_ is.”

As if on cue, a rustling comes behind Namjoon. Namjoon turns and Jungkook leans to the side, both finding Jin as he starts to stir. He lifts his hand over his face, and groans quietly.

“Joon-ah... Is... that you..?”

Jungkook’s grip on Namjoon’s arms tighten. Namjoon turns back to him, eyes wide and shining.

“Namjoon, you’re such an amazing, caring, thoughtful, and just… _astounding_ person… Jin, he loves you, the whole company loves you, random neighbors love you, Yoongi-hyung and Hobi-hyung love you…”

Jungkook knows he shouldn’t say it, knows he may never see Namjoon again, knows this isn’t fair to either of them…

But... Jungkook really has never had much self-restraint.

“And I… Namjoon, I think I love you.”

Namjoon’s tears begin to flow, along with the rain flowing down his face.

“Jungkook-ah, wait, please, don't go.”

Jungkook sees himself start to glow. Namjoon’s voice is desperate.

“No, _please._ Not now, _not now_ —”

Namjoon lurches forward, wrapping his arms around Jungkook and pulling him in tight. He cries, muttering sobs into his shoulder.

Jungkook wraps his arms around him, and he tucks his face into the crook of his neck. Breathes in one last time. Counts to three.

“I'm sorry, Joon.”

When Jungkook looks up into the rain, everything fades to white.

  
  
  


_Please don’t ask any questions_

_But do keep pouring forever_

_I’m not lonely when you’re pouring_

_Please stay by my side_

_\- “forever rain” by RM -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/averyseptember)   
>  [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/averyseptember)   
>  [fic thread (pls like/rt/share if you enjoyed)](https://twitter.com/averyseptember/status/1339267264688754689?s=20)   
>    
> 


	9. Paper Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3l2dgQ7b2Ycj9AWfuMgWw0?si=bBaU__iiScKMHckpN_ky-Q) I made especially for this fic.

_Pictures I'm living through for now_

_Trying to remember all the good times_

_Our life was cutting through so loud_

_Memories are playing in my dull mind_

_\- “Paper Hearts” by Tori Kelly -_

  
  


If it were possible to have a love-hate relationship with a city, Jungkook would love-hate the _shit_ out of Seoul.

  
  


The lingering smell of urban industry constantly leaves the taste of ash in his mouth. The rows and rows of identical buildings with the same four square corners over and over _and over_ again poke and jeer at his sides. The metal cityscape always looks the same yet is somehow ever-changing, the buses and cars and trucks etched into the moving landscape as if they were the Earth’s plates themselves, shifting and overlapping, causing the ground to shake. 

It makes him dizzy. Jungkook hates it.

Or... does he hate it?

It’s an odd feeling. One could argue that he’s still fairly new to the city, but the everyday routine he faces already feels like it's been droning on for years. He shuffles along, waking from his apartment bedroom to join the masses and masses of people as they mill in and out of the subways and the streets and the buildings, like millions of grains of sand pushed and pulled back and forth and from by the ocean.

This ocean, however, is not always clear and blue. Some days it’s murky and dirty and grey, ashen and dark. He struggles to swim along, against the current and against the waves.

As he watches everyone else swim or float along past him, complaints no longer falling from their mouths, he feels lost.

He feels like everyone else has grown up without him.

He remembers when he first moved here, a couple months ago. The city was exciting, every splash of color, every alleyway held a new adventure, a new discovery. Every step, every jump was taken by a bright-eyed university freshman version of himself, following after his hyungs to his dream school, his dream city. 

Half a year later, that energy starts to taper off. 

_The Golden Boys_ , as so aptly named by one Kim Taehyung, were three Busan-grown friends, who, from the convincing and encouragement of their _golden_ _maknae_ , had all tested for and attended university in Seoul, hesitantly leaving behind their hometown with the intent or pursuing music careers. The initial goal had birthed from the early days of a high-school band, and the sparkly eyes of an ambitious Jungkook. Aspirations to move to Seoul and get all three of them scouted into an entertainment company, a dream, no, a soon-to-come _reality_ that Jungkook believed in with his whole heart. 

After convincing his hyungs a couple years ago, he had gotten them to Seoul, but... could only get them so far. Ever since Jungkook had moved to Seoul and reunited with them, the three had busked regularly and still practiced together in their apartment every week. However, Jungkook had watched as Jimin and Taehyung had slowly started to drift away from their initial fantasies, drifting slowly back towards reality. 

Practicality took the place of passion, but they had continued to let Jungkook drag them along. Although they were still enthusiastic about music, Taehyung and Jimin had switched to other fields of study, and secretly started to give up on the chase. 

Jungkook couldn't blame them. They had moved here two years before him, and for those two years he watched as they grew more homesick and tired every day. The two had been rejected in auditions by company after company, and eventually both had stopped applying outside of the ones Jungkook would sign all three of them up for. Jungkook watched them tire and felt helpless. He could only be glad that they had each other.

Now that he was in Seoul, he worried that the same fatigue would slowly push him away from music, from singing, from dancing, from performance. No, he _knew_ it eventually would, it was only a matter of _when_ or _how soon._ Every day, going from school to part-time work to dance studios to rehearsing to busking to back again… with no results for months, no long-lasting opportunities, and more and more rejections and financial troubles… it took a toll.

But it's all he’s ever known, and he doesn't think he wants to know anything else.

He hated the vastness of the city, hated being one of millions competing in a field where he could go his whole life deserving and yet never have a single stroke of success. He hated the anxiety, hated the fear that none of his hard work would pay off.

But he loved what he did. Loved dancing, letting the music move his body and soul, pull his muscles taut and his jaw slack. Loved performing, loved bringing joy to himself and others, his hyungs and best friends by his side. Loved singing, letting his heart out not just on his sleeve, but through his voice into the mic, to float from the speakers over the city and the crowds of people, in hope that maybe one day his message, his feelings would get through to someone.

So he hated his life in Seoul, but at the same time, how could he not love it?

Jungkook wakes up to his phone ringing, his ringtone a song much to happy for an occasion much to annoying. 

He shuffles around in his sheets. The phone rings from somewhere tangled up in them, so he clumsily slides his arms up and down the mattress until he find it and grasps at it. 

“ _I wanna tame your lion heeeaarr—_ ”

“—...Hello?”

“Jungkook-ah~”

Jimin’s voice is singsong through the phone speaker. Jungkook wrinkles his nose into his pillow.

“Mm.”

“Did you just wake up? It's almost five PM.”

Jungkook lifts his head to check the time on his phone. _4:54._ He drops his face back into the pillow.

“Mm.”

“Okay well, I'm just calling to let you know that Taehyung and I are gonna be back pretty late tonight so make sure you eat dinner, okay? Love you.”

“Mm.”

“ _Mm,_ ” Jimin mimics back, and the call ends.

Jungkook turns over to face the ceiling. It's already quite dark in his room, the sun probably already on its way to exiting the sky over the city. He sits up, pushing himself upright and leaning back on one hand.

Then he pauses.

He brings his hand up to his cheek. It's wet.

He’s... crying.

He lowers his hand to inspect it. The tears left on his fingers shine, reflecting the small rays of evening light peeking through his window. He drops his hand.

He feels empty. 

He hopes it’s just one of those days.

After a shower, a quick cup noodle, and a packing of his bag (he checks to make sure his camera hasn't run out of film), Jungkook steps out of their apartment. He finds himself packing his guitar and amp into Taehyung’s car. The empty feeling from when he awoke remains. 

Sometimes he thinks it's cause he's homesick. 

Sometimes home is all Jimin and Taehyung ever want to talk about, and sometimes Jungkook excuses himself early from dinner to lock himself in his room, not considering how he voluntarily moved himself all the way across the country, to a virtually whole new world of strangers and dangers. Maybe if this was where the feeling came from, it would comfort him. Everyone feels homesick.

But most of the time, he knows that the emptiness has been there far before he came to Seoul.

Today the traffic is worse than usual, for an obvious reason: the rain. Jungkook groans as he has to pull to a stop on the highway, the whole section appearing to be at a snail’s pace. He groans, but sits back into the car seat, watching as raindrops pelt the window only to wiped away again.

He’s not sure when it started, or when it'll end, but some days he can't help but feel that something’s missing. There’s a space somewhere... in his stomach, in his chest, in his _soul_ , he doesn't know. He feels like he could be overreacting or making it all up, but some days it feels so real, so tangible that he feels like nothing but a shell, a torso floating through the crowd.

But as Jungkook sits in his car, staring through his windshield over the blues and purples and oranges of Seoul, he thinks that even if the space feels real, the idea that it could one day be filled is equally as genuine. 

The city is a part of all of it, somehow. As he stares over the countless buildings, lights begin to dazzle the cityscape as night descends. Something drew him to _here_ , drew him to leave Busan. Something that tipped his courage over the threshold and led him to jump into the unknown, to take that risk. He knows that pursuing music was a big part of it, but there's something else there, deep within that emptiness.

Something he has yet to understand.

He starts with the tarp, setting it up under a small overhang over the sidewalk., then the stool and the amp and the mic stand. He places his guitar case to the side, and puts his bag, his jacket, and his camera inside it before he zips it up, leaning it against the wall he set up against. Then he sets down the “Golden Boys Golden Tip Box™,” as well as the business cards alongside it. He pulls out his wallet, and tosses a couple thousand won into the container. Countless people and umbrellas pass by him as they mill about the shopping district. Jungkook then slides his guitar around his body, from being strapped to his back to snug in against his front.

It's days like these where he feels lost, like he doesn't know what to do.

So the only thing left to do is the only thing he knows.

* * *

**September, 2015. Evening.**

“Namjoon-ah, are you feeling okay?”

Yoongi’s voice is surprisingly soft through the harsh static of his phone speaker.

“Yes hyung, I—”

“You’re not overworking yourself today right?” his tone turns firm, but not angry.

Namjoon rolls his eyes at the sudden interruption. “You’re one to talk, hyung.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to check up on you.”

“You saw me yesterday.”

“—And I’m saying your behavior yesterday worried not just me, but Jin-hyung too. Do you know why?”

Namjoon pauses his task. Sighs. “Yes hyung. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Joon-ah," the softness returns, "Did you at least get some rest?”

“Yes, I was in bed for most of today and am just tidying up the dorm right now.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” Yoongi seems to be getting distracted by something else at this point, probably engrossed in the track he was monitoring in the studio, “You’re coming to the meeting, yes?”

“Yea, once I’m done here I’ll be getting on the train.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

“See you.”

Namjoon let’s the soft phone static linger for a moment in case Yoongi has any last-minute doting interjections (which he’s come to anticipate), but when they don’t come, he ends the call with a click of his lock button.

Namjoon pockets his phone and continues his task. He sits in the middle of a pile of boxes outside his closet. He’s been sorting through old belongings and dust-ridden clothes that have been in the back of the small storage space for a year or so, trying to pick some things to donate and save space. 

He continues to rummage through the boxes, stopping to admire and inspect certain items before either placing them into newer containers for storage or a box labelled “to donate” in his handwriting. An old Ryan plushie. An old cassette tape player. An ugly tank top 2011 him thought had _so much swag_. 

And then, a leather-bound journal.

Namjoon smiles at the book, almost immediately reaching to place it in the “keep” box among his other sentimental things, but he pauses. Slouches a bit into his cross-legged sitting position on the floor of his bedroom, and opens it up.

He’s filled up about two other journals since he stopped using this one, but there’s always something particularly special about his oldest one, the one with the most pages, the most wear and tear, the most _years_ scrawled into its paper.

Along with all the writing and the poems and lyrics, the most pictures.

Namjoon had always been one for film cameras and polaroids, not particularly considering himself a stellar photographer but just fond of conserving memories, preserving moments in time. Jin had encouraged him and now helps him scan all his polaroids to save them into a drive, but something about having the physical print, the little polaroid in his hand just felt more genuine to him.

He smiles as he browses the aged pages of the journal. He doesn't look back in his drive often, so it’s been a while since he’s seen a lot of these photos. So many memories, so much youth jump out of them, the smiles, the funny poses, and even the frowns (read: Yoongi’s). 

However, he finds himself lingering on a particular section from a couple years ago.

He thumbs over a photo of Jin and him in their old dorm bathroom, Namjoon shirtless on a kitchen chair and Jin equipped with gloves, working purple goopy hair dye onto Namjoon’s head.

A couple pages back and he finds a photo Yoongi took, where Namjoon is smiling at the camera, standing over the kitchen counter and a chopping board, wielding a knife as he cuts up an onion. Hobi stands behind him, posing dramatically, his hands brought up to cup his cheeks and mouth forming a big “O”. Namjoon scoffs at the sight. _“It was a milestone we just couldn’t miss,”_ he remembers Yoongi commenting about the shot.

After skipping a couple more pages forward, he finally stops, at a photo he remembers well. It’s a photo of Jin and him, taken in the smeraldo garden in the early witching hours of Namjoon’s 18th birthday, a night Jin fondly recalls as “The Night of the Butterflies.” Namjoon is laughing, one hand to his mouth while Jin scrunches up his nose, frowning as a butterfly lands right on his hair.

He has loose memories of these times, but now looking at these photos, something about them leaves an odd feeling in the back of his mind. Something in between nostalgia and sadness, even though the memories were happy.

Something he has yet to understand.

-

**behind the scenes (4 users active)**

**Hobi-hyungie**

UGH I HATE THE RAIN

we r gonna be late to the meeting

**August-Dee**

when he says he hates the rain and its making us late he really means he got so caught up attaching himself to me that he forgot we had to leave

**Hobi-hyungie**

hey it takes TWO to get lost in cuddling

**Worldwide Ugly**

can you guys stop fucking on the train and hurry please 

if this meeting lasts more than an hour cause you guys are late I’m gonna stress eat tteokbokki

**Hobi-hyungie**

don’t use as us scapegoats for your “cheek fat” you claim to gain

also how DARE you we would choose much sexier public places than the train

**August-Dee has left the chat**

**Joonbug added August-Dee back to the chat**

**Joonbug**

I think they’re only a train behind me. We’ll be on time.

-

Namjoon pockets his phone and looks out the window. Or tries to, at least. Rain pelting the window makes the evening cityscape shift into drooping greys and blues, mixing and melding together like the blurred water lilies of a Monet painting. He puts his hand up against the glass and feels the coolness of the rain seep through and into his fingers, combatting the humid heat radiating off the crowd of people stuffed into the carriage.

It grounds him. Feels familiar.

He knows it sounds dramatic (and has taken advantage of this in the form of multiple song lyric credits), but Namjoon seems to always wake up with an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. Sometimes it feels bigger, sometimes it's barely there at all, but regardless it just feels like something is off. Waiting to be filled. By work, by food, who knows. 

Most sunny-dispositioned people like Hobi complain about the rain and its way of ruining plans and wetting his knit cardigans until they’re _much_ too heavy, but when Namjoon sees the rain… he feels as if that space in his stomach could be filled, even if just a little. Like a dip in the sidewalk, filled with a puddle he can smile into and see the fallen rain reflect it back to him.

The rain seems to check on him, like a friend.

Thinking back, he feels it's been like this ever since that day.

_...that day._

He remembers moments of his 18th birthday like they’re movies, playing back with the rustling film of an old projector. He sometimes forgets all of it happened in the same 24 hours, since it was so much in such little time.

After coming home from RJ’s garden and sleeping beside Jin, Namjoon remembers waking up, and leaving the dorm. He got on a train and rode all the way across the country, through mountains and valleys and fields, to the coastal city of Busan. He doesn't know what he did there, just that he came back sometime in the afternoon, and crashed on the couch, only having gotten two-ish hours of sleep. To this day, three years later, he doesn’t remember why he went.

He just remembers feeling lost.

That by itself was bizarre enough, but it wasn’t the craziest thing to happen that day.

That night, before the Bangtan boys had a company evaluation performance, him and Hobi had made a poor attempt at making hotteok at the bakery nearby, and a fire broke out in the kitchen by accident. Unable to contain the fire, the boys fled and warned the area. A large part of Seonam-gu was evacuated, but then the unthinkable happened.

He remembers reading that it was some sort of maintenance flaw that was a huge oversight on behalf of the gas company, and that they were sued by the city for millions of won for neglect. A gasline pipe that ran under a majority of the district had malfunctioned, and a series of explosions occurred directly under parts of the area. Many buildings were destroyed and countless burned down, but remarkably, no one was killed.

Due to the timing of the bakery fire, most civilians of the area were out in the streets at the time of the explosion. Some were injured, but everyone was able to leave the area as fire crews began to rush to the emergency.

Namjoon, being the teenage-headstrong hero that he was, had run into the fires to find Seokjin unconscious in RJ’s garden, flames surrounding them. He remembers being scared, being horrified, being trapped.

And then the rain came.

The rain had kept him safe. Pushed back against the flames like a knight and her vast shield until they were no more. Seeped into his sweater and hair until he laughed and smiled up at the sky, letting a drop bounce against his teeth and tickle his gums. He’d looked up into the clouds and the rain had told him, _you’re okay._

A rescue team accompanied by Hobi and Yoongi had found them among the debris between the buildings, almost as soon as the rain put out a majority of the fires. A young girl he had encountered in the chaos had directed the team to their location. _Chaeyoung_ , he remembers she said was her name.

Jin was hospitalized for a couple days, suffering from minor injuries caused mostly from smoke inhalation. The police had ended up interviewing Hoseok and Namjoon about the bakery fire, but somehow, no charges were made against them, as the wealthy owner of the bakery had insurance and at his admittance, didn’t really care. The whole debacle just seemed to be one crazy conspiracy-inspiring coincidence, that all four of the Bangtan boys still struggle to process.

Memories held so vividly, but yet there’s something missing. Flickers, holes in the film. Moments, feelings…

Loss.

“Taehyung, you know we have to tell him eventually.”

Something in Namjoon’s chest jumps.

He turns to find two boys, standing across the small train carriage from him. They both clutch hanging arm handles and are huddled up together, black wavy hair of one tangling up with the vibrantly pink strands of the other. He stares at their backs for a moment, unsure why their voices caught his ear. 

He turns back to look out the train window, but he can’t help but overhear their exchange.

A deeper voice responds, “Why? At this point, wouldn’t it be funnier if we just let him figure it out?”

A scoff. “That’s my point, Tae. At this rate I don’t think he ever will.”

“He’s not dumb, he’s just… distracted. One day he’ll have to figure out that it isn’t normal that we only have _one_ bed in our bedroom.”

Their conversation dissolves into giggles and whispers. They get off at the next station, and Namjoon gazes after them as they walk off into the crowd, up until the train doors slide closed.

It’s just like Trainer Im to demand that her final meeting with the BigHit team not be held in an actual meeting room. She had sent out a request to have a meeting at a fancy high-class Western cafe in the middle of a busy nightlife district, insisting that she rent a private room and treat the team that treated her well over the past decade of her career. Although she was a bit much at times, Namjoon was sad to see her retire. As the meeting starts, he sits at the table in the fancy room, swirling his macchiato with a spoon and pushing a scone back and forth on a small plate.

After the BigHit building collapsed in the Seonam-gu fires, the company was near falling into bankruptcy after buying new facilities and dormitories in a new area. Bangtan’s debut was indefinitely postponed, but the boys had ended up instead releasing some of their own solo work and mixtapes on the side. These EPs are what much of the staff say saved the company, as after they were released, they gained a lot of traction online, from fans all over the world, claiming that the four artists, _RM, J-Hope, Agust-D, and Jin_ made music that brought comfort to youth like them everywhere. Luckily for the company, with the attention of both Korean and international fanbases came the attention of _investors_. The company was able to recover financially, and even grow further than they had been before the fires. All four of the Bangtan boys continued to release solo work and mixtapes, and often collaborated for singles. Gaining fans all over the world, eventually it was found out that the original plan was for the four to debut together in an idol group. This became a big thing for fans, so much so that the idea of re-debuting all the boys as a group were in the works, even after three years on the backburner. 

This was the main topic of this meeting, talking about the possible creative directions of a group they would want to take. The four boys and a large amount of staff sat in on countless meetings, talking about how forming a group at this point in all of their solo careers was tricky. All four of the boys had very different directions with their music, and the meetings discussed possible things to bring them all together. Countless suggestions were thrown around. An idea of having new members introduced came up, but all of the trainees signed under BigHit were still in their early teens, far too young to be in a group with the four.

Yoongi scoffed at this. “22 and I’m already an old fart, I guess.”

The meeting ends, with not much progress made. The stressed management team instead turns to the more fun side of the itinerary, celebrating Trainer Im and feasting on expensive pasties and complicated coffee blends. 

After an hour or so, Madam Im (“I’m officially retired, drop the ‘Trainer,’ boys”) gathers the whole team around for a group photo. Many phones are passed up to a poor cafe employee, but luckily she just smiles and also knows how to work Namjoon’s fancy new polaroid camera.

Namjoon hands Madam Im the freshly printed picture, and before he can escape she grabs him and squeezes him into a hug, talking about how he should sing more often in his tracks, and to remember to "focus on the chest or the head rather than the tightness in your throat, okay?" Namjoon laughs and hugs back, before grabbing his things and his camera, waving bye to his hyungs, and exiting the cafe.

Despite the rain, Seoul is never hindered, and the shopping district is insanely crowded as Namjoon shuffles along with the shoppers, dodging umbrellas and small children. He’s felt a bit out of it all day, so he wants to go on a short walk before he goes back to their dorm for the night. Namjoon knows it’s still September, but since he’s here he decides to do a bit of looking for something he can get Jin for his birthday. Jin had spared no expense on Namjoon’s gift with the new camera, stating that he better not break it or lose it like he had countless others. He clutches said camera in his hand as he walks around in the light drizzle, inspecting window displays and pondering Jin’s wants and needs. 

He’s mid-inspecting an alpaca plushie through a window when he hears it.

It’s soft and distant, almost dismissable amongst the noise and bustle of the mall’s crowd. Nonetheless, it catches his ear and doesn’t let go.

The sound of a guitar. 

Namjoon turns towards the sound, breath stolen from his chest for just a moment. All he can see are the shuffling of the shoppers, but when he peers through the spaces between them, he sees it. _Him._

Namjoon’s legs move on their own. Before he knows it, he takes a step, then another, and another, until he’s pushing through the crowd, person after person until—

The boy sits alone under the overhang of a building, a break in the crowd as pedestrians make their way about the streets between stores. He’s dressed in a simple white t-shirt and black jeans, and Namjoon wonders how he isn’t cold, or even wet. Perched on a stool, the boy plucks at a guitar and sings into a mic, both plugged into an amp to his side. His voice carries over the crowd, over the umbrellas and into the night.

For a moment, everything fades away but the sound of his voice and the rain that falls against Namjoon’s cap.

_Pictures I'm living through for now_

_Trying to remember all the good times_

_Our life was cutting through so loud_

_Memories are playing in my dull mind_

The boy’s hair is done up slightly, swept to the side with bangs that hold a light wave to them. His hair frames a soft face, features round and youthful. He keeps his eyes closed as he sings, lost in the lyrics. 

No name comes to Namjoon’s mind, but something about him… is familiar.

_I hate this part, paper hearts_

_And I'll hold a piece of yours_

_Don't think I would just forget about it_

His voice…

Namjoon stands there, the only one among the crowd to stop and watch him. He’s singing a song Namjoon hasn’t heard before, but its lyrics cut deep into his chest. Listening to those words, something in his chest begins to rise, heart beating a little faster, a little warmer.

He feels something wet fall onto his face. When he reaches his hand up to wipe it away, he realizes it isn’t rain.

He’s crying.

_Goodbye love, you flew right by love_

Then something flies past his face. 

Namjoon flinches, flailing a hand and almost falling over backwards, but when he regains his balance, he has to close his eyes, wipe away his tears, and shake his head to check that he isn’t dreaming.

A butterfly, wings blue and vibrant, flutters in front of him, and after being swatted away, flitters through the air towards the boy and his guitar. The boy is so focused that he doesn’t notice, but the creature takes a roost on the edge of his instrument, unbothered by his movements.

Namjoon stares in awe.

His camera is still in hand, as the song comes to an end he raises it, crouches down a bit to get a good angle, and points.

_Hoping that you won't forget_

As the boy holds out the last note, he finally opens his eyes. He looks up slowly as he finishes, and locks eyes directly with Namjoon’s lens. In his eyes, Namjoon swears he sees stars.

_Click._

Jungkook blinks, and his head pulls back a bit. He stares down at the camera, then sits up a bit straighter as the boy behind the camera stands up. They meet eyes, but the boy doesn’t say anything. Jungkook stares at him, and tilts his head. 

Then his eyebrows press together.

“Uh... did you just take a photo of me?”

The boy winces and then looks down, and for a second he just stands there, hand rubbing the back of his neck. It takes a moment before he responds.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just… it’s kinda odd? Wanted to snap the moment.”

“What’s odd?”

The boy points to something to Jungkook’s left, and Jungkook turns. He almost misses the butterfly sitting on his guitar before it takes off, shining as it dances away through the rain.

They both watch it go, but when Jungkook looks back they meet eyes again. The boy answers.

“It’s just… you don’t see many butterflies in September.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end(?)...
> 
> jk
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/averyseptember)  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/averyseptember)  
> [fic thread (pls like/rt/share if you enjoyed)](https://twitter.com/averyseptember/status/1339267264688754689?s=20)  
>   
> 


	10. Epilogue: Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3l2dgQ7b2Ycj9AWfuMgWw0?si=bBaU__iiScKMHckpN_ky-Q) I made especially for this fic.
> 
> Moodboard by @95sopekook on twitter (Ronnie)

_Suddenly I wonder_

_If you're looking at me right now?_

_Won't you find out all my pain?_

_I'll be around you_

_I'll be there for you_

_I'll be your light_

_All for you_

_\- “Moon” by Jin -_

Today is the worst day of Harin’s life.

 _First,_ her favorite TV show wasn’t on this morning. _Then_ Yeonjun-oppa spilled ketchup all over Mr. Bubbles, and Harin couldn't get the stain out no matter how hard she cried into it. Yeonjun had to take him and put him in the washer (she knows Mr. Bubbles is a whale, but the washing machine is still scary). _Then,_ as if the day still couldn’t get any worse, Yeonjun took her to the ice cream shop down the street to apologize, but as soon as she walked out of the store, she got too excited waving it around, so _splat:_ the ice cream scoop slipped right off the cone and onto the sidewalk.

So yea. A pretty bad day. The worst, actually. Staring down at her ice cream melting onto the pavement, she tries to hold it in, but everything is too much, so she does it.

She cries.

The tears burst out, as well as her very audible wails. 

“Harin-ah!” She hears Yeonjun behind her, his voice high pitched and panicked, but Harin doesn’t register what he says after her name, too busy letting her frustrations out, flowing over her cheeks, down her neck, and into her shirt as the minutes pass, as her ice cream melts.

“May I?”

But then she hears a different voice.

“Yes, please.”

Harin takes a break from her cries and wipes her tears. When she opens her eyes, there’s a man crouching in front of her.

He’s quite big and tall, and his shoulders seem twice as wide as Harin’s. His hair is brown and styled up, and he looks like a character from one of the dramas Yeonjun likes to watch. Like one of those handsome men he ogles over as they explain to some girl that they’re just _too rich_ to marry them (Harin thinks they're quite boring, really). He’s in a big pastel yellow jumper, and the soft color makes Harin feel only _slightly_ better.

“Hi, what’s your name?” His voice is soft and his smile is kind. 

Harin hesitates, still sniffling, but the man waits politely for her to collect herself. “Harin.”

“Well Harin, I’m Seokjin. It’s very nice to meet you. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Harin almost starts crying again at the question, but she swallows it down with all her might.

Still, she doesn’t answer the question. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have been crying so loud. My teachers say big girls shouldn’t cry.”

Harin looks down, but the man somehow ducks even lower, so she looks back into his eyes.

“No, no, don’t apologize, there’s nothing wrong with crying. Sometimes things are hard, and it’s okay to need to let it out sometimes, yea?”

Harin considers his words. They sound a little bit too good to be true, but she agrees nonetheless. “Yea…”

“That’s right.” He glances down to her ice cream, now a measly green puddle. “Sometimes things happen that we wish we could change, but sometimes we can’t, and we just have bad days… that’s okay too.”

Then something happens that surprises the little girl. The man pulls something out from behind his back (she hadn’t realized he had his hand hidden until now). Harin looks down and he’s holding a little pot out to her, a flower growing out of soil in it. The flower is purple and blue and very, _very_ pretty, almost mesmerizing as Harin stares down at it.

“But... there’s always better days ahead. Here, I want you to have this,”

Harin takes the pot with her free hand, still staring down at the way its petals glow. It’s so _cool._

She looks back up at the man, eyes shining. “Wow! Seokjin-ssi, I can have this?”

Seokjin laughs and again smiles at her, Harin now able to meet him with one of her own. “As long as you _promise_ to take care of it for me.”

“I promise! I will!”

“She will.”

Harin turns and Yeonjun is standing there, a new ice cream cone in hand. He takes the empty one from her hand and switches it out, making sure her hand is tightly wrapped around it before he lets go.

Harin squeals at the ice cream, but honestly is more excited about the flower. “Thank you so much sir!”

“You’re very welcome. Now, what flavor ice cream did you get? Is that mint chocolate?”

“It’s matcha! Mint chocolate is gross.”

“That’s right.” Seokjin chuckles and stands up, patting Harin’s head. He turns to Yeonjun.

“Two sips of water every four days.” He winks as he turns to walk away.

When Harin looks at Yeonjun, his whole head is red, up to the tips of his ears.

Harin walks home with her brother after that, both a new flower friend and ice cream cone in her hands.

_Best. Day. Ever.  
_

* * *

Jin gets back to the dorm just a little bit later than he thought, held up by a short little distraction along the way. He punches in the code, and the number pad beeps softly as he pushes the door open, kicking off his shoes and stepping inside.

He immediately smiles as the smell of curry wafts its way up into his nose. When he walks into the kitchen, he finds Hobi chopping vegetables, and Yoongi stirring a pot of said curry over the stove.

“ _Mmmmmmmm,_ ” Jin hums as he walks into the room, immediately walking up behind Yoongi, wrapping his arms around him. Yoongi elbows him and he yelps, but doesn’t let go.

“Where is everyone?” Jin asks into his hair.

“Jimin and Taehyung are in our room…” Hobi speaks up, “Um… don’t go in there for a bit.”

Jin chuckles. “Wouldn’t plan on it, but they do know you live in that room too, right?”

Hobi scoffs. “Yea um… we have a deal.”

Jin perks up. “Oh! Like me and Yoongi? He has to buy me fishcakes every time you guys wanna—”

An elbow jabs his stomach again, this time _harder._ Jin chokes on air, backing away from Yoongi to bend over and clutch the area of damage.

“Where’s Namjoon and Jungkook?” Yoongi grits out, “Weren’t you with them?”

Jin recovers quickly, standing up straight again and clearing his throat. “Oh, um… we separated… they’re still… out.”

Yoongi turns his head and raises an eyebrow. “On a date?”

“Not _yet,”_ Jin winks at him. 

Hobi laughs and nudges Yoongi. “Honestly, they’re almost as bad as you and me were.”

Yoongi turns to him, smiling a smile so sweet that Jin almost cringes. He would’ve, if he wasn’t equally as endeared.

“Maybe they’ll finally figure out their feelings,” Yoongi answers, “You know, it’ll just take the trauma and high-stress of two of their closest friends disappearing into a fiery explosion.”

They simultaneously both turn back to look at Jin. He blushes.

He walks up and pulls both of them into a hug. They both groan. “I love you guys.”

They both act like they don’t want to, but after a short moment Jin feels their arms wrap around him. Jin had hugged them facetiously, but the feeling makes him sigh and relax into the embrace.

He’s happy.

* * *

_It’s not a date. It’s not a date. It’s not a date._

_…_

_Is this a date?_

Jungkook’s mind runs in circles, round and round in nervous loops until he can’t hear his thoughts at all. Can’t hear Namjoon, either.

“Jungkook-ssi? Can you hear me?”

Jungkook snaps back into reality, looking up to Namjoon across the table. His head is tilted to the side, eyebrows raised.

Jungkook raises his back. “Did you just address me formally?”

“You uh, weren’t responding. Figured maybe you forgot who I was, _again._ ”

Jungkook scoffs. “Hey, that’s unfair!”

Namjoon breaks into laughter, and Jungkook does too, just for a moment before they easily fall back into their conversation.

That’s how things are with Namjoon. Easy.

It was odd at first. When they first met, it had been effortless to find a rhythm in their friendship, and soon after their co-workership. It was odd, like they’d met each other before, and eventually they found out that they _had_. Jungkook had pulled out his camera once and Namjoon had recognized it, right before the epiphany washed over both of them like an ocean’s wave. They had met years before, when Namjoon lost his camera in Busan, both having just forgotten and failing to realize it until then.

Even with their bizarre fated meeting aside, there were some things neither of them could explain about how well they clicked. Things with them, that just… made sense, even when they shouldn’t have.

When the Golden Boys had gotten scouted into BigHit, they had been required to move into the Bangtan dorm, making the entire group readdress their living configurations. Yoongi had moved into Jin’s room, and then Jimin and Taehyung into Hoseok’s. That left Jungkook to move into Namjoon’s. 

He was afraid at first, especially since they had barely met, but so many things had just _clicked,_ right into place.

One day, Namjoon found Jungkook painting at his desk, and asked to join him. Namjoon, despite claiming to have never held a brush before, was really good at choosing paint colors and helping Jungkook mix them to get the shades he wanted. They made a habit of painting together, and their room was slowly but surely decorated with small canvases hung on the walls.

Another time, Namjoon had to leave for a couple weeks to visit his family. His only real concern about leaving for so long was how his bonsai would fare, but when he returned, it was trimmed and watered correctly, like he never left. Jungkook had done everything, claiming that he learned simply from watching Namjoon over time.

They were good roommates, despite being quite different people. Namjoon made his mess, but Jungkook always helped him clean it. Jungkook played his bubblegum girl group music and Namjoon played his old school hip-hop, but they both jammed to either. Finding a common ground in their music tastes, the two also recorded covers and songs together quite often. They admired each other’s skills so much, Jungkook entranced by Namjoon’s words and leadership and Namjoon always impressed by Jungkook’s work ethic and talent.

Both had their spaces, their faults, but the other was always there to help them fill it.

Despite spending hours upon hours together everyday, it never grew to be too much. To Jungkook, things with Namjoon were never complex or exhausting… just simple. Easy.

But as Jungkook sits in the cafe across from his hyung, he wishes this date—no, whatever this was—was one of those things. 

He’s been meaning to tell Namjoon about his feelings (god, he _hates_ calling them that) for a long time. He had told Jin that he liked Namjoon “more than a little bit” a couple months ago, and the eldest had just scoffed and said, “Okay, and…? Everyone knows that.”

Earlier, the three of them were all walking back to the dorm from the smeraldo garden when Namjoon asked if they wanted to stop and get some coffee. Jin had swiftly declared that he was in a rush to get home and walked off without them, but not before winking at Jungkook.

Stupid Jin-hyung. Always knowing everything. Always _winking._

Despite his nerves, Jungkook and Namjoon’s conversation isn't awkward. They banter back and forth until their mugs are empty, Namjoon’s cappuccino and Jungkook’s hot chocolate reduced to nothing but drops at the bottom of each. 

“You know, Jin pointed out something interesting to me earlier.”

Speak—or think—of the devil, and he shall appear, Jungkook muses.

“What’d he say?”

A waiter comes by and picks up their empty cups. Namjoon nods at him and smiles before turning back to Jungkook.

“It's… It’s been a year since we met. Today.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen at the realization.

“It’s been a year already?”

Namjoon nods. “Yea, time flies fast I guess. Almost too fast, sometimes.”

Jungkook remembers that day, in the rain. The boy behind the camera and him had stared at each other, before an older woman had popped up behind him, followed by a number of other people dressed in business clothes with laminated name tags. She had introduced herself as “Madam” and politely but firmly _demanded_ Jungkook’s contact info.

“I need to make sure they sign you, cause then I'll _know_ I can retire in peace,” she had said.

Jungkook had given her the Golden Boys business card, and the rest was history.

His life had changed that day, gone from holding out for little hope to being filled with nothing but, his _debut_ with all his best friends set in a little less than a month from now. The day he met Namjoon, everything had changed, new paths had been set.

When he thinks about it… even paths he had never expected to find.

“Hyung, I have to tell you something.”

Jungkook looks up into Namjoon’s eyes, finding them nothing but curious and attentive. The sight would usually calm him, but something this time is different. He thinks “something,” but knows the reason his heart is beating right into his throat.

“Yes, Kook-ah? What is it?”

Jungkook swallows. He can do this. He’s fucking _Jeon Jungkook_ , badass soon-to-be-idol-group-center extraordinaire. He can handle a little stupid _confession_ like it's not a big dea—

Then a loud _boom_ of thunder rips through the air, and it’s almost as if the cafe itself rumbles. Jungkook almost falls out of his chair.

Actually—scratch almost—he _does_ , and he lands on his butt, the chair scooting back as he falls. _Oof_ , he huffs as he lands, clutching his chest and breathing heavily from the scare. 

Namjoon is out of his chair immediately and crouching at Jungkook’s side. 

“Are you okay?”

It takes Jungkook a couple seconds to respond.

“Yes, I'm fine.”

Namjoon helps him back into the chair, Jungkook blushing and already massively embarrassed when—

“Do you hear that?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes hyung, I _heard_ that, I—”

“No not that. _That.”_ Namjoon looks at him. Jungkook arches an eyebrow.

“Shh, _listen_ ,” Namjoon whispers… so Jungkook does. 

Then he hears it. The start of it, the beginning of an irregular rhythm. The _tap tap tap_ of something on the roof of the cafe.

When he turns back to Namjoon, he’s grinning from ear to ear, dimples out. 

It’s raining.

“C’mon.”

Before he can say anything, Namjoon’s hand is wrapped around his, and he’s being pulled towards the door.

“Hyung!” He tries to protest, but Namjoon is too excited, too bubbly. Before he knows it, they're running through the downpour, Namjoon’s laughter leading the way.

They stop in the middle of a random plaza, the outdoor space now open and empty, since no one wanted to get wet, like the both of them now _extremely_ were. However, Jungkook can't find it in himself to complain, as he realizes Namjoon isn't the only one laughing.

His hyung spins around in the rain, arms held out and head held high. Jungkook watches him, smiling fondly. 

“It’s been so long since it rained, almost months,” Namjoon says. “I missed it.”

“Well I hope you're getting your fill,” Jungkook quips, “my shoes sure are.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Namjoon steps up to him and Jungkook’s breath catches as he gets a little _too_ close, and then wraps both his arms around Jungkook’s sides. Namjoon’s fingers interlock behind him and his hands place themselves on the small of Jungkook’s back, but Jungkook just stares wide-eyed at Namjoon’s smile, his dimples, now only centimeters away.

“Don’t you like the rain too?”

Jungkook is all caught up and overwhelmed, in the rain hitting his face, the sudden closeness, and the warmth of Namjoon’s breath, but one thought rules over everything and he just…

He wants… he wants to kiss him.

“You know, I’ve always loved the rain. I think I've told you this before, but it's always comforting, you know? I know a lot of people hate it but—”

Jungkook tries, but he can't hear a word he’s saying.

He knows he should let Namjoon finish, let him wax poetic about the rain clouds and how friendly and misunderstood they are, let him declare his love for the rain and how he just wants to catch the clouds and befriend them for the _thousandth_ time, but...

...But Jungkook has never had much self-restraint.

He crashes in, and with all the might of the ocean, presses his lips up into Namjoon’s. 

For a second it's just them standing in the storm, nothing but the rain and the touch of their lips.

Then another second passes and Namjoon doesn't move.

Another second and Jungkook’s stomach drops. His mind races faster than his heart, than the rest of his body combined. An _I’m so sorry, I shouldn't have done that_ begins drafting in his mind, and the only thing keeping it from forming on his lips is the fact that they’re still pressed to Namjoon’s— _fuck_. He almost jolts away like a strike of lightning, thinks he could, thinks he should, thinks he _better_ —but parts of him feel frozen. 

Slowly breaking through the cold, he starts to pull away.

He doesn't get very far.

There's a hand pulling on the back of his neck and then one sliding further around his waist and—oh shit, they’re _kissing_. Like, _kissing_ kissing. Namjoon is _kissing_ him. Jungkook barely has half a mind to kiss back, but when he does he—

Without warning, for reasons Jungkook would chase down and catch every rain cloud in the sky to find out, Namjoon pulls back.

“Hold on.”

Jungkook is surprised at the sudden interruption of the moment, but is too stunned to protest. Through the rain, he meets Namjoon’s eyes and finds a stare filled with nothing other than pure, unfiltered warmth. It nips at both of their ears, turning all four to shades of light rose.

“What's wrong?” Jungkook practically _chokes_.

“I'm counting them.”

An arched, _wet_ eyebrow, “Counting?”

Namjoon nods, some drips flying from his chin. 

“Yes, counting.” 

Jungkook’s unspoken question of _counting what exactly_ stays unanswered for a moment as Namjoon strengthens both his stare and his arms around Jungkook’s back, pulling them closer. Safe to say, more than just Jungkook’s ears are pink now.

“Counting… what?”

At that, Namjoon, all almost six feet (read: 181 centimeters) of him, _giggles_. Like a child playing in the snow (but instead a twenty-two year adult in the rain), he _giggles,_ right before he _picks up_ Jungkook, spinning him around.

Jungkook gasps and falls into Namjoon’s chest, wrapping his arm around his neck to keep from being flung outward. The large amount of soaked cotton bundled between is cold with rain but all Jungkook feels is warm, warm, _warm_. Before Jungkook realizes it, he’s giggling as well.

After a couple spins, Namjoon places him down and leans back again to push wet strands from Jungkook’s eyes. The fondness swirling in Namjoon’s irises is so deep-rooted that Jungkook almost shies away at the sight. 

Almost. Despite being so _goddamn_ embarrassed, he stands his ground. He stays.

“The seconds, Kook-ah. I'm counting the seconds.”

Before Jungkook can process, Namjoon leans back in and quickly pecks him on the lips.

“Time goes slower when you count them, right?”

Jungkook just stares back. Takes in every curve, every shadow. Every _second_ of Namjoon.

And for a moment, maybe the rain does fall a little slower.

  
  
  
  


_I didn't even have a name_

_You loved me until I met you_

_And now you're my reason_

_\- “Moon” by Jin -_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.
> 
> Um, first things first, I just wanna say, thank you so much for reading this story, whenever or wherever you are. This is my first piece of writing, and even though it's a little rough around the edges, I am so so so happy that I've been able to put it out and share it.
> 
> Also, if you've been following it as it's been posted, I'm really sorry it took so long after Chapter 7 for me to get anything out, but I hope releasing the last three chapters all at once somewhat made up for it haha...
> 
> Before I forget, I noticed a lot of people who have read this actually haven't seen the movie "Your Name," which this fic is based off of. My fic isn't completely the same as the movie, so if you haven't you should definitely go watch it !! It's a masterpiece of a movie, and you should be able to find it by either searching "Your Name" of "Kimi no Nawa."
> 
> I honestly don't have much more to say after that. Just, thank you so much.
> 
> Thank you so much to my wonderful wonderful beta readers: Morgan, Kayla, Iz, Miel, and Serena
> 
> Lastly, if you enjoyed, please consider subscribing to me on ao3 and following me on twitter for some of my other content (let's be moots) !! 
> 
>   
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/averyseptember)  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/averyseptember)  
> [fic thread (pls like/rt/share if you enjoyed)](https://twitter.com/averyseptember/status/1339267264688754689?s=20)  
> 


End file.
